


Second Chances

by BluestNovember



Series: Decades [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Play, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Dominance, Dominant Steve, F/M, Fucking, No beta reader, Oral, Romance, Sex, Sexual Assault, Smut, non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-03-30 21:58:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19036384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BluestNovember/pseuds/BluestNovember
Summary: Steve and Dani navigate the next phase of their relationship, the path to marriage is never easy, especially when Steve has so many secrets. Sequel to Between the Decades.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y'all! Nice to see you again. 
> 
> I went through a rough few weeks, thanks for picking back up and reading. Hope you are all doing well.
> 
> <3  
> Blue
> 
> PS: There will be a warning at the beginning of the chapters that contain non-con. I promise, I know it's difficult reading for some, and I hope I can honor that for all of you.

My ring sparkled in the sunlight from the train window on my way to DC. I sighed, and looked away from my iPad where I was reading about Advanced Abnormal Psychology. Steve and I had bought a ring in New York at a small jeweler’s down the street from his apartment the day he proposed. I hadn’t told my parents that we were engaged, yet, but I wasn’t sure how they’d miss my diamond when they saw me in person. It was a princess cut, half carat diamond on a white gold band, but it hadn’t been appraised, yet. Anything bigger would have been obnoxious, and that wasn’t our style. I wasn’t sure how clear the diamond was, but it was perfect. Steve and I went home where I showed him  _ Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom _ and we ordered a pizza and opened a bottle wine. Steve couldn’t stop talking about Indiana Jones and we gently made love. It had been the perfect engagement.

I was still healing emotionally from my ectopic pregnancy. It made me sad sometimes, but then again, we understood that we could conceive one day. We had discussed that if this had been a regular, healthy pregnancy, would I have had it, and the answer was absolutely. I wasn’t sure how we’d have had a baby and while I finished grad school on time without transferring to New York to live with Steve and transferring to another school after dropping out of GWU. I sure as hell was not staying alone in DC in my shoebox apartment with a newborn baby and Steve there only intermittently.

The city was humid and soggy, similar to how Tennessee felt in the summer, as the train arrived in DC. It was a cultivated swamp land anyway.

I wasn’t sure how to tell my friends that Steve and I were  _ engaged _ . Should I just play it coy and flash the ring or blurt it out? I wasn’t sure which way would work the best. Of course, Alissa and Joel had been keeping Lourdes Marie during my weekend in New York. Joel kept on telling me he was going to steal Lourdes Marie for himself and wasn’t above sending me selfies where Lourdes Marie was sitting in his lap and snuggling him. Alissa was waiting at the terminal for me, with Lourdes Marie in the cat carrier.

“Hey, did you get your reading done?” she asked.

“Sure did,” I said. “Steve and I went to PRIDE in New York and had a lot of fun,” I said as we fell into step together. “He’s doing well, he just left for deployment this morning.”

“How was his first PRIDE?” she asked.

“He enjoyed it, we both did,” I admitted. “He’s kind of… getting used to his sexuality now, and… he’s not out of the closet or anything.”

“Noted,” she said. “Joel and I aren’t talking about it at all with anybody.”

“Thanks,” I said, relieved. She had been the first person I went to when I had figured out Steve wasn’t completely straight. Of course, she told her husband, but Joel, for all his silliness, took this seriously. He wasn’t going to tell anybody Steve was bisexual, I had Joel’s word. He was at the hospital today, where he was a surgical resident. “I guess we could joke that he’s into the threesomes I’m into.”

Alissa laughed. “Like you’d ever do that.”

“I know,” I admitted, rolling my eyes. We got into her car and I slid a hand into the cat carrier to pet Lourdes Marie.

As I pulled my hand out, Liss did a double-take. “Wait, what’s that!” she shouted, grabbing my hand. “Is this an engagement ring?”

I tried not to laugh, but my smile was contagious. “For all my bad behavior, he proposed to me,” I said.

“What!” she cried, grabbing my hand. “How did he do it? Where? What did he say?”

“Hey, eyes on the road!” I cried. “I’ll show you when we get to my place.”   
“Oh my God, you’re engaged!”

“Will you be one of my bridesmaids?” I asked shyly.

“Well, duh, of course!” she cried. “Spill the details!”

“The morning after PRIDE, we woke up, and I showed him how I’ve started studying Gaelic, you know that’s his first language, right?”

“Are you kidding me? All this time, I never knew that!”

“Yup. Well, I told him I loved him in Gaelic, and he was so happy I was speaking it with him, and then he said, ‘I’ve got something to ask you’ and then he got down on one knee.”

“Did he have the ring?”

“No. He and I were going to get married in Monaco, you know that, right?”

“You told me. So he was just thinking about it all this time?”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “So we went out and found a jeweler that afternoon that had this perfect ring and got it. I haven’t told my parents, yet. I’m trying to figure out how we’re going to tell them.”

“I know,” she agreed.

“He didn’t ask my father for my hand.”

“Oooh,” Alissa whispered. 

“I don’t know how he’s going react. My mom’s crazy anyway, I don’t really care how she acts when she finds out.”

“I know your dad doesn’t like Steve, though? But he seemed pretty decent to him when he was here.”

I shrugged. “He’s cordial. That’ll have to do for now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More coming soon!


	2. Chapter 2

Steve sent me a text letting know he was being deployed as I got home. 

The A/C unit in my apartment was pretty weak, unfortunately and had gone on the fritz while I had been in New York. Alissa and I reviewed the reading and she left so I could get to bed, since I was starting back at work in the morning. I slept in my underwear alone and let the oscillating fan blow on me since my overhead fan and A/C unit weren’t doing much.

At four AM, my alarm went off and I needed another shower to rinse off all the sweat that was drying on my body. I fed Lourdes Marie and left the fan on while I went to work.

At work, Ron was there.

“Welcome back,” he said, patting me on the shoulder as I arrived. “Is a hug appropriate?”

“Yeah,” I said, accepting an embrace. 

“I am so relieved you’re back. It’s been a lot of overtime. I made Sheila a shift manager, and she almost blew up the restaurant.”

“Awesome,” I muttered.

“Well, I’m just gonna be here managing the kitchen while you get back into the swing of things.”

I went to the kitchen to help with the morning prep work for the servers, only to discover my favorite cook, Barry, was in the line today. 

The cooks all cheered when I entered.

“The best rack in all of DC is back!” one of them cried.

“I’m giving you all free pass this one time, but I’m calling HR on the next person who says anything about my boobs,” I announced.

“We missed you, Dani.”

“Thanks, guys.”

“Why’d you leave?” Barry asked. “You go on vacation again?”

“No.”

“What beach did your boyfriend take you to this time?”

“For two whole months?”

“It was the beach. A topless one?”

“I had emergency surgery back in April, I needed time to recover,” I said sharply.

The cooks all stopped. “Whoa…”

“And it was not a boob job, either,” I added. “Just wanted to clear that up.”

“Ron didn’t tell us that!” Eduardo cried. “Dani, are you alright? What happened?”

“I don’t really want to tell you the details, okay?” I said. “Can we all get back to work?”

We got back to rolling silverware, and prepping fruit with the other two servers arrived late. 

“So you can tell me,” Barry said, stepping up beside me. “What happened? What was the surgery?”

I grimaced. “It’s private,” I replied, taking the tray of rolled silverware to the hostess station.

After we opened, we had some people come in to start the breakfast rush. I didn’t think much of it, but I went back to get some more silverware rolled since we were running short.

“You know, you don’t have to talk to me like that,” Barry said.

“Talk to you like what?” I asked.

“You can tell me what happened.”

“It’s none of your business!” I cried. Steve would die if I went around announcing that we had had an ectopic pregnancy.

“Oh, come on!”

“Dude, seriously, I’m not going to tell you something like that,” I replied, rolling up the silverware. “We’re friends, aren’t we?” he asked. He had sent me a few texts when I had been recovering, but I hadn’t responded with more than,  _ I needed some time off. _

“We’re work friends,” I said. He had apologized for his inappropriate comments and seemed sincere about it. “And I’m not being a bitch when I tell you it was a private surgery.”

“Had to do with your junk, didn’t it?”

“Oh my God! I’m calling HR-”

“You wouldn’t do that on me,” he said. “We’re friends.”

“Try me,” I replied knowingly.

I felt like gagging.

 

* * *

My A/C unit was not being cooperative in the DC humidity and my landlord was not being cooperative about fixing it either when I called about it. I ended up taking Lourdes Marie to Alissa and Joel’s a few times, it got so hot in my apartment, we went to spend the night in their spare bedroom.

On the other hand, I got through my practicum interview at the DC Children’s Hospital without a problem. Steve called me when he got back Stateside when I arrived at work, asking me how the interview went.

“I felt pretty comfortable,” I admitted. “I feel like I’ve got a good chance at it. I’ve got another agency to interview with, and I got an email from the Stark Foundation, of course.”

“Are you going to set up an interview with them?”

“I don’t know. I kind of feel like it’s nepotism to interview with them,” I said. 

“Well, you’d be staying here more if you went with the Stark Foundation, win-win,” he said.

“Yeah, definitely win-win,” I agreed. “But how would I keep up my job at the Starlight Diner to keep my apartment in DC?”

“I could help you with that,” he said. 

“No way.”

“We’re going to be husband and wife soon enough, what’s mine is yours.”

“Speaking of,” I said. “Do you want to go to pre-marital therapy in New York or DC?”

Steve groaned. “We can always go to a priest. They’re happy to see us.”

“Baby, no.”

“Why?”

“I want to go to a real marriage and family therapist and discuss things a priest might not think about.”

“Can we go to a priest and a therapist concurrently?”

“Yes,” I sighed. “Also, Daddy wants us to go to Pensacola for the family vacation in July, and I want to go, but I’m not sure I can get the whole week off from work.”

“Do you want to skip it?”

“No. Can we go for like, three days? Once I’m on the intrasemester break. I think I can wrangle three days off in a row from work.”

“Get the days, and I’ll try to get them, too.”

“Okay, thank you. This is a family tradition, and if you’re going to marry me, you’re going to be a Conyers. And my nieces and nephews love you and will be so upset if you don’t go.”

He laughed. “I miss them. And it’s not so bad being Uncle Steve.”

“I told you they’d grow on you. I’ll try to find a recommended therapist in New York.”

“I’m driving to DC, bringing my bike on Thursday.”

“Good,” I said. “But let me warn you, my A/C isn’t working right.”

“Dani,” he groaned. “Call your landlord.”

“I did!” I cried. “They’re not doing sh-  _ crap _ .”

He sighed, annoyed. “I’ll try to read up on that stuff and I’ll do what I can went I get there.”

“Okay. I’ll probably stay at Alissa and Joel’s until then.”

“I lived without A/C my whole life, but everything’s just so much  _ hotter _ now outside due to this global warming garbage.”

“Tell Donald Trump that,” I sighed. “I gotta go, I gotta clock in. I love you more than yesterday.”

“I’ll love you more tomorrow.”

I hung up the phone only to run into Barry.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hey,” he said. “I couldn’t help but overhear, you’ve got some problems with your A/C?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Great time for that, right? My weather app says we’re about to go through a heat wave.” 

“I can help you with that.”

“No, that’s okay,” I said, creeped out.

“No, really, my Uncle was an A/C and HVAC repairman, he taught me all about it. Let me give it a go. When I was living in Richmond, I installed people’s A/C units, even though I’m not licensed. They’d buy the unit and I’d hook it up, saved them a load of money.”

I didn’t like the idea of him being in my apartment alone with me. “Why don’t we wait until Thursday?”

“Wednesday’s temperature is going to be over a hundred,” he said. “Are you sure?”

“I can stay with my friends,” I said. 

“No, let me. I told you: we’re friends. I can do it, and I won’t charge you. Where do you live?”

Well, for how much I’d be hemorrhaging money once practicum started, I decided it would help to save money if I could get my A/C fixed. My apartment would be unbearable, and Alissa and Joel were expecting company from Texas, Lourdes Marie and I needed to be out of that room. “Okay, let me give you the address.”

 

* * *

 

I opened the pink box of confectionary treats from the bakery. “Alright, you get first pick,” I said to Barry.

He put down the wrench and turned around, picking out a cookie. “Thanks.”

“You’re sure you can fix this?”

“This is an easy fix,” he said over my A/C window box that was partially disassembled on my desk. He picked up his cold beer and took a gulp from it. “I’ll be done in like ten minutes. It was just a short in the wiring in this unit.”

“Thanks again,” I said.

“Hey, it’s my pleasure,” he said. “My wife doesn’t mind.”

“You’re married?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said, picking up the outside of the A/C box and putting it back on. He picked up the electric drill, reattaching it and plugged it in. “Here we go,” he said, twisting the A/C knob. The unit came to life and a blast of cold air came through like a refreshing cold wave.

I groaned in relief. “Oh my God!” I cried. “You really did it!”

“Feels nice, doesn’t it?”

“It really does,” I agreed.

“Give it an hour, and this whole apartment should be cooled off completely,” he said, packing up his tools. 

“You’re a lifesaver! I wonder if anybody else in this building is having problems with the A/C unit and could use your help. You could charge them.”

“Nah,” he said. “I’m not licensed. I’d get shut down so fast.”

“I can’t wait to tell Steve the A/C unit’s fixed. I haven’t really announced this, but we’re engaged now.”

“I noticed your ring. Congratulations, Dani.”

“Thanks,” I said. “You’re really not that bad. Are you sure I can’t pay you?”

“No, that’s fine,” he said. “But one thing…” he reached into his bag. “I notice you having back problems all the time. You’re always rubbing your shoulders.” he pulled a bottle of something out of his bag. “Let me help out.”

“What’s this?”

“I used to do massage,” he said. “And I was pretty good at it. Let me try to help. This Biofreeze, it’s like medical grade icy hot, it’s not sold in stores.”

“I um…” he had proved to be a real bro with the A/C. And I’d be a real bitch if I turned him down now. “Look, let me check with Steve, how he feels about it-”

“You have to ask Steve to get treated for a medical problem? That doesn’t seem very independent.”

Well, he was right. I couldn’t deflect to Steve. I was out of excuses.

“Just lay down on your stomach.”

“No,” I said, worried. I turned around. “Here, I’m wearing spaghetti straps.”

He used the icy-cold gel on my shoulders and started doing massage-type things on my shoulders, like Steve did for me when we were together. He was actually pretty good, but he couldn’t shut up. “Was that the surgery you had? Back surgery?”

“No,” I said. “I had an ectopic pregnancy.”

“Whoa.”

“Yeah, my doctors made me take time off from work for eight weeks,” I said. Barry wasn’t so bad when he wasn’t at work. “Steve’s kind of weird about people knowing, so I don’t want it going around work.”

“It was his?”

“Yes, it was his!” I cried, offended.

“Well, you never know!” he cried.

“Rude,” I replied.

“Well, no offense, some people have open relationships,” he said. 

“We don’t.”

“Alright, alright… man, you’ve got knots in your shoulders.” He was rubbing around my shoulders towards the front. I felt a little weird about that. “But you’ve got a knot, right here.” He dug his thumb in and I yelped. “Too much?” It hurt for a second, but then it was a relief.

“Oh… I’m… I’m okay, that was actually… good.”

“See? Aren’t you glad you said yes?” 

“Well, this is better. How’d you get into massage and why don’t you do it anymore? Doesn’t it pay better than being a line cook?”

“I kind of lost my passion for it,” he said. “I needed a break. Lay down?”

“No, Barry, I don’t think Steve would be okay with me laying down on my bed with you,” I said.

“He’s pretty strict and controlling with you?” Barry noted.

“No, I just care about his feelings. He doesn’t  _ make _ me do anything.”

“All you’ve talked about for the last ten minutes is how Steve wouldn’t approve, that’s all I’m noticing. You claim to be independent, that’s all.”

Well, I was independent.  _ And Steve should trust me. _ Barry had just done a lot for me, repairing my AC and working out a few knots in my back. I sighed. It was like I was taking all these things from him and not saying thank you. “I’m feeling better,” I lied. “Thank you.”

 

* * *

It took me some time to get Barry to shut up and leave that night. I had to sleep with my duvet cover over me for once, the apartment was so chilly! I was in heaven!

Steve got to DC and I welcomed in. “I thought you said the A/C was broken!” he cried. “Your landlord came through?”

“No, one of the guys in the kitchen fixes A/C units,” I said. “Doesn’t it feel great in here?”

“You’re resourceful,” he said, setting his backpack down on the bed, taking off his riding gloves. “How much did he charge you?”   
“I bought a box of cookies from the bakery for him,” I said. “And… and we split a six pack.”

“You gave another man a beer?” he asked, horrified. “From your own fridge?”

“Yes. I didn’t know that was such an egregious offense!”

“Sasquatch, we gotta set out some rules about cheating-” I saw the corners of his mouth quirk up and I knew he was kidding.

“You suck!” I cried, and we both laughed together.

“Be careful, though,” he said, getting a clean t-shirt and shorts from his drawer in my dresser. “Men tend to think… if they’re in your place, that you’re inviting them in for… you know… sex. Don’t give this guy the wrong idea.”

“He’s married,” I said. “And he knows I’m only into you. Don’t worry about it.”

“Even married men will take it as an invitation. Look, I’m going to take a shower so we can get some sleep.”

“I’ll have some food for you when you get out.”

I microwaved some already cooked chicken breasts I had in the fridge and made some broccoli and a baked potato for him. I read some more of the chapter from my Addiction and Chemical Dependency textbook before Steve got out of the shower and I took my own shower. It was cool enough that this time, we got to sleep under the duvet and snuggle, despite his body temperature.

“I love air conditioning,” I muttered into his bare chest. He had taken his t-shirt off and gotten in bed in nothing but undershorts. His skin was so warm and he smelled so clean, like Dove Cucumber body wash from my shower. In the eight weeks (okay, seven and half) of medically enforced celibacy Steve and I had had to take after my ectopic pregnancy surgery, we had discovered new ways of intimacy that didn’t involve penetration. Blow jobs and hand jobs had made him too nervous while I was recovering. I had found a few sensitive spots on his body with just exploring it with with my fingertips and my mouth, like the inside of his elbow, if I just pulsed it a certain way, or the tips of his fingers when he was laying in bed with me. He had sensitive nipples, too, although he didn’t want to admit it. I could suck and lick on them if he was turned on, and he liked it. He had discovered how much I liked having my back and shoulders rubbed, especially when I had a test that week. He like to hold me, at least topless, and knead my back while holding me, turning me into a limp noodle.

And at that moment, I remembered I had let Barry rub my shoulders. Barry had asked me to lay down on the bed so he could get my back.

Steve’s hands rested in my lower back under my shirt, and I shivered.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“N-nothing.”

“You just froze up.”

“I’m not… Nothing’s  _ wrong _ ,” I said. How did I tell Steve that I had let Barry rub my shoulders? That seemed so innocent, but then again Barry was a lot like Joel, and said a lot of risque things only to make people laugh. He understood I wasn’t interested in him, I had a Steve of my own and was perfectly happy. “I’m just stiff. Work and stuff.”

Steve pulled me on top of him and helped me tug my shirt off over my head. I pressed my chest against his hot, taut torso, and his thumbs began rubbing in tight, small circles at the base of my spine in the small of my back. I buried my face into his chest as he kneaded out the knots.

“How’s that?”

“Good,” I moaned. “Ugh…”

“I wish you worked something else other than waitressing.”

“I’m a  _ server _ , not a waitress,” I said. “And a shift manager.”

“I hate that you do that.”

“It’s honest work, baby.”

“But it’s causing you so much stress.”

“Just one more year,” I said.

“About that… would you interview with the Stark Foundation if they offered one?”

I sighed. “I don’t know if it’ll even be accepted for an internship and practicum site, it’s in a totally different state.”

“The DC area spans two different states and a district.”

I sighed: for all the times Steve and I argued (which wasn’t often), he was so bright and had such a photographic memory, it was hard to argue with him. 

“You know I’d let you and Lourdes Marie live with me. You’d just come back here for classes once a week by train and maybe you could stay with Alissa and Joel. Money’s not an issue, Dani, and we’re going to get married anyway. I want you out of this stupid, dangerous closet of an apartment, too where your landlord’s awful and your neighbors sell dope. This is a bad neighborhood.”

“Wait a second, you’re suggesting I move in with you? This is not like you at all.”

“Nobody  _ has _ to know we live together. And well… the team knows we had a failed pregnancy and Clint and Bruce say we need to live together to see if we can stand each other.”

“Wait, what?” I burst out laughing. “Bruce and Clint got to you? I thought you were a good Catholic boy, ashamed of sex in general. You lied to Pepper Potts about me spending the night in your apartment just a few months ago!”

He shrugged. “Maybe if you moved in with me and I took care of you for a while, your pops would…”

Steve didn’t have to finish the sentence. Daddy did not trust him. “You think you have to prove to my father you’re not a bad person before you can marry me?”

“Basically, yeah.”

“Steve, he just doesn’t trust you because you can’t tell him about cryo and the Avengers. Even if you could, he wouldn’t believe it. I think we don’t need to prove anything else, other than that we’re serious and in love and you’re not going to take advantage of me like he fears.”

“Do I need to bring my taxes and bank account statements for him?” he complained. His fingers dug into a sore spot between my shoulder blades and I whimpered. “I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

“No, it hurts so good,” I whispered. “Ungh… I don’t care if my father never likes you, fathers rarely do like their son-in-laws. He’ll get over it. I don’t want to keep this engagement a secret from him for much longer.”

“What about your crazy Ma?”

I shrugged. “She’ll react however she wants, I don’t particularly care. I’m just tired of hiding it.”

“Me too.” His hands worked their way down my back again. I moaned quiet and closed my eyes, enjoying it. I cracked my eyes open and traced his nipple with my fingertip, making a small noise come out of the back of his throat, and I could feel his cock twitch though his underwear against my thigh “Danielle. No.”

“You don’t want to do it tonight?”

“I like yours, better, that’s all,” he said, gripping my hips, curving his torso. I sat up and ground my hips into his. I was wearing nothing but a pair of flimsy black low-rise bikini panties, and I curved my own hands around the base of my breasts. He dipped his head down to take a lick at my breasts, and I pulled back, pushing him away with one hand. “What are you doing?”

“You like mine, right? So, I’m just going to do it to myself since you don’t want me doing it to you,” I squeezed my tits and ran my thumbs over my nipples, making them hard.

“Danielle, that’s…” 

“Shh.” I lifted my right breast to my mouth and let my tongue take a swipe at my aerola, while watching Steve’s reaction. 

“Oh, you’re filthy.” His eyes and he reached for me, but I pushed him away.

“I’m going to be filthy by myself,” I said, inching towards the edge of the bed. “I’m going to get my bullet-”

“Don’t you dare!” He grabbed me around my waist and pulled me back onto the bed. “I want to watch you, don’t go away.” He laid down beside me. “Besides, where ya gonna go?” He kissed along my shoulder, skipping up to my lips.

“Alright…” I whispered, sliding a hand down my stomach to the elastic of my panties. The pressure of his lips intensified and I whimpered a little. My fingers laced into the new coarse hair deep in my panties, and into my own cleft, finding my clit, which was sensitive and ready. I slipped my finger down into my entrance, to find that I was wet enough. He pulled back, and I cracked my eyes open to see him watching my hand. 

“Let me get this off,” he said, slipping his fingers under the elastic. I lifted my hips just enough that he was able to tug them down my legs. There was a rush to being completely exposed to him, even after all this time. It was thrilling to know he was so strong and powerful, but I could bring him to his knees when I was naked. Honestly, I probably could have talked him into robbing a bank while seducing him. He kissed up my shin to my knee, and stopped to extend my leg so he could gently suck on the back of my knee. 

“Baby?” I asked, the tingling sensation between my legs growing. 

“Hmm?” I felt his tongue against my knee as he open-mouth kissed it.

“Get your cock out.”

“What?” he drew his lips off my knee.

“I wanna watch you, too.”

“Whatever you ask.”

He unzipped his khakis and pulled his cock out, it was already hard. “Turnabout’s fair play, baby,” I purred.

I could see his cheeks turning pink and he grinned, embarrassed, and gripped himself by the base of the shaft and started running his hand up the length.

He was so embarrassed, but was doing it because I asked him to. I sped up my strokes and he watched my hand, greedily. I circled my breast with my freehand, biting my lower lip, while I played with my nipple, feeling my orgasm rising. I whimpered, my eyes shutting as I pressed my fingers into my erect nipple. I peeked at him pumping himself, enjoying it, his eyes closed.

“I’m ready,” I said. “I’m ready for you, now.”

He glanced over at me, and saw me panting and grinding, legs open, and reached to the nightstand to get a condom. “I dream about you when we’re apart,” he growling, ripping the foil packet open with his teeth. He rolled it down and smoothed it over his length, groaning slightly. He propped himself over me on one forearm, guiding himself with the other.

Even though we had been together for so long, this was not our first time together, it always got to me when his cockhead entered me. He pressed into me, slowly, and a small squeak came out of my mouth. I pressed my free hand to one of his enormous biceps, keeping my right hand at my clit.

“You are so incredible,” he uttered, sliding slowly inside me, torturing me, making my eyes roll up in the back of my head. I tried to tell him he was amazing, too, but he was filling me up, driving me wild, and my response was just an unintelligible moan. I must have been hitting my g-spot, because I was so close. He started pulsing inside me, and it drove me over the edge. I almost lost consciousness in that white-hot heat, and came to as he pulled out and ripped the condom off. He came on my stomach with a few gasps and groans. We laid in silence, with only our ragged breaths for sound. His free hand stroked my face, cupping my cheek for a moment. I kissed his thumb, which tasted a little bit like his cum and sweat. His eyes were hooded and taking me in as he laid at my side. “I love you.”

“More than yesterday?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll love you more tomorrow.”

He kissed me lightly, and then pushed up off the bed. I watched him wet down a washcloth in the bathroom sink and wipe himself off, then get a fresh one to wipe me down. “Thanks,” I whispered. He kissed the top of my head as I sat up. “Are you hungry?”

“You just fed me.”

“Are you hungry?” I repeated myself, grabbing a think polyester silk-like robe to put on.

“That's a ridiculous question, yes, I could eat.”

I went to kitchen and made got some goat cheese and herbs I had scored at Aldi’s when Alissa and I had gone together, a sleeve of crackers, and some grapes. Steve was laying in the bed when I came back with the plate for us.

“Okay, no cracker crumbs in the sheets,” I said.

“I’ll be careful,” he agreed, spreading some goat cheese on a cracker with knife, carefully getting it to his mouth.

“You know the saying ‘I wouldn’t kick you out of bed for eating crackers’?” I asked.

“Well, it’s kind of the only option you’ve got in this apartment,” he said as I took a moment to try to make my own cracker. It broke under the pressure. “Now who’s getting cracker crumbs in the sheets?”

I stuck my tongue out at him.

“Things are so different, now,” he said. “See, if you were my wife in the forties, I could tell you what to do, because it was expected of me. I could tell you to find a Practicum site in New York.”

“Well, this isn’t the forties,” I said. “And I will be your wife in time, but things are different, so wives have to be different.”

“I know. Do you even understand how much I’ve had to adjust?”

“I do, honey,” I said. “And this is why I want to go to pre-marital therapy.”

“All I’ve seen on the internet is that marital therapy is that the therapist and wife get to sit around tell the husband how he’s wrong.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s because men don’t like to feel their feelings. Pre-marital therapy will help keep that from happening to us.”

“If you insist. Does insurance cover this?”

“It can with certain therapists. But, S.H.I.E.L.D. might have a problem with it.”

“S.H.I.E.L.D. can kiss off.”

“Captain Rogers! Language!” I teased. “We can go out of pocket if it bothers you. Not on insurance, they’ll never be able to prove it.”

“Hmm… How much is out of pocket?”

I grimaced. “Mmm… a hundred and twenty to two hundred dollars.”

Steve almost choked. “What?”

“Oh, this coming from the man who keeps telling me he as the money to marry me, finally!”

“I’m not cheap, I just think this is ridiculous! What’s there to talk about? Me being problematic?”

“No!” I cried. “You’re not problematic, I only want to make sure we’re ready for forever.”

“That is a complete waste of money!”

“Please? It would make me happy.”

He groaned. “Okay fine, I’ll go for one session.”

“I’ll pay half of it.”

“Find a cheap one, and you are not paying half, you can’t afford it.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all enjoy Steve's reaction to pre-marital therapy!

Two weeks later, I waited for Steve to pull into the parking lot of my building in his motorcycle. I had found a marriage and family therapist that was working on getting her license named Riley, her rates were cheaper. Getting Steve to agree to go was like pushing a boulder up a hill. He sighed and got stony about it every time I brought it up.

I heard the engine of his bike as it turned around the corner and saw Steve coming around the corner, wearing a long-sleeve t-shirt and jeans, and a helmet. 

“Hey,” I said as he pulled up, and stood on my toes to kiss him.

“Hi,” he replied. “I guess I’m ready.”

“This isn’t so bad,” I promised. “You’ll be glad we did it on our wedding day.”

“Okay, fine,” he muttered.

“How was traffic?” I asked.

“North New Jersey is always a pain once you get past the tunnel, otherwise, it was good weather,” he agreed, taking off the helmet, and handing it to me. I shook my head.

“We’re not taking your bike.”

“I’m sorry?”

“No, I called an Uber.”

“What? Why?”

“Because,” I replied.

He grimaced and sighed.

I was not going to pick a fight before therapy.

The Uber pulled up. “Come on,” I said, taking his hand.

We took the Uber to Riley’s office, which was comfortable. There was a couch with magazines on the coffee table, and a candle burning. “It smells good in here,” I commented.

Steve sighed again. We sat down on the couch, and Steve tapped his foot nervously.

“It’s going to be okay,” I said, taking his hand to squeeze it. It was stiff, but he relaxed a little.

The door to the office opened, and a girl came out, dabbing at her eyes. Steve side-eyed me, but instead of saying anything, I squeezed his hand in comfort.

“Hi, Dani and Steve?” Riley emerged from the backroom. She was a blonde wearing glasses. She smiled at us.

“That’s us,” I said.

“Come on back.”

I tugged Steve’s hand. She shut the door behind us and after she went over the confidentiality agreement, we got down to business. “So the two of you are engaged, and you wanted to do some premarital therapy,” she said. 

“Tell me about your backgrounds and the courtship?”   


“Like how much do you want to know?” Steve asked.

“Why don’t we start with our backgrounds?” I asked.

“Um.. bad idea?” Steve suggested.

“Why is it a bad idea?” Riley asked.

“Well, I told you he’s got a special background consideration,” I said. “He works for S.H.I.E.L.D. and he’s older than he looks. I personally, am a server at a diner and a grad student at GWU in licensed practical counseling.”

“I went to American U,” she said. “So how old are you, Steve? You left the year off your birthdate on the application.”

“I uh… I’ll be… chronologically twenty-seven years old on July 4th,” Steve said carefully.

“Okay, good. That’s a good amount of time between the two of you, Dani, you’re going to be twenty-six in August?” Riley asked.

“Yes, that’s right,” I said.

“That’s not so bad,” Riley said. “He’s not that much older than you.”

I shrugged.

“So tell me about why you want to get married,” Riley said.

“Well… why wouldn’t we? We’re in love and I want to be with her forever,” Steve said, a little unsure.

“Why don’t you tell me about how you expect marriage to change your current relationship?”   


“We’ve got a long-distance relationship,” I began. “He lives in New York and comes down here to see me pretty often. I go up to New York to see him once in a while, schedule permitting.”

“New York city?”

“Brooklyn,” Steve clarified.

“So what do you expect will happen after you get married?”

I glanced at Steve. “I want to move to New York to be with him and start working on my hours to get my license, per New York standards. And I want to follow him as a therapist wherever his work stations him. I grew up in a military family, and this was life for me, so I’m ready for that.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“And we’ve talked about that,” Steve said. “I’m ready to have her move up to New York right now.”

“But she’s got a degree to finish.”

“She can finish it, it’ll just take a little commuting. She can do her practicum and internship in New York, and can move in with me, once we get her father’s blessing for our engagement. Her apartment’s a slum, by today’s standards, and mine’s a lot safer and in a better neighborhood.”

“You want to move in together right now?” Riley asked.

“I’m not opposed to it, but this is a lot of work and will upset my class schedule. Steve’s a little more religious than I am, and he used to be so weird about letting people think he was spending the night with me. But, we had an ectopic pregnancy a few months ago, and the cat’s kind of out of the bag,” I said.

“I worry about people seeing her as a fallen woman and her father not giving his blessing, but since we had that failed pregnancy, I figure if we keep cohabitation quiet, I can show her father I’ll be a good husband for her. He doesn’t trust me and isn’t giving his blessing yet, and that’s important to Dani that I’m accepted into her family. And, I kind of want the life her father has built for himself and his… spouse, they’re so happy. There’s so much love there, and I want to build a life like that with her. I didn’t have that growing up, my father died before I born.”

“What I’m hearing is you were hoping to find a father figure in your father-in-law?”

“Well, sure. Her  father is someone I admire and I’d like to have a good relationship with him,” Steve explained.

“Anything other reason?”

“We’re both military, too,” Steve admitted. “And I really admire the relationship she’s got with him. I want to have one like that with my own kids when we have them.”

“I assume you’ve already discussed children?”

“We have,” he said. “We definitely want them. I think the sooner the better.”

“Wait a second,” I said. “I want to get my license before I have our first baby.”

“You want to wait?” he asked.

“Yeah. I want to be able to support us if you got injured in the field. We’ve talked about that.”

“Okay, good. And you’re in support of it, Steve?”

“I am,” he said. 

“How many kids do you want?”

“Well, we  _ are _ Catholic,” Steve began, and his voice trailed off.

“I don’t know that I could handle any more than three, four at the most,” I said. “And I want him to be a hands-on dad, like mine was.”

“And I want to be,” he added.

“Oh, good,” Riley said. “That’s good to hear. But I hear some hesitation from Steve on birth control?”

I could feel the embarrassment radiating off him. “Do we have to talk about this?” he asked.

“It’s all confidential,” she reminded him.

“I am currently on the generic version of Yaz, and he uses condoms pretty regularly. I’ve used the Plan B a few times when we’ve forgotten condoms-”

“We will never do that again,” Steve interrupted.

“Why is that?” Riley said.

“I have a lot of misgivings about using birth control at all,” Steve said. “And you don’t know how guilty I feel for making that happen to her, she had to go through surgery and eight weeks off from work.”

“But you were there for me the whole time,” I said. “You took time off from work to be with me.”

“How did that make you feel?” Riley asked.

“Like you were the best boyfriend in the world.”

I saw Steve’s expression soften, and the edges of his lips finally went up.

“I love you,” I added.

“I wasn’t going to just let you recover all alone,” he said, taking my hand again, squeezing it. “I’m not going anywhere when you need me.”

“So you were the  _ boyfriend _ at that time?” Riley asked. “Not the fiancé?”

“He proposed to me the weekend before my eight weeks recovery was up,” I explained. “And that was like, three weeks ago?”

“What prompted that?” Riley asked Steve. “Why that moment, were you planning it?”

“Well, we almost got married spur-of-the-moment on vacation back in March, but changed our minds,” he said. “I just felt like… she’s… she’s seen some of my worst secrets and…”

“Like how bad are your secrets, Steve?” Riley asked.

“It’s not that bad,” I repeated. “It’s not bad at all, baby.” I didn’t dare tell Riley Steve’s secret. It wasn’t my place. I realized how not-at-peace Steve was about the secrets he had shared with me as he shot up to his feet.

“I can’t.” He was sweating, flushing pink.

I stood up and wrapped my arms around him to stop his pacing. “I am so in love with you. You’re not going to be an outsider or unloved or hated,” I said softly, rubbing his back.

I felt his heart bursting out of his chest, and his heart rate and breathing slowed.

“What are we talking about? How bad is the secret?” Riley asked.

He squeezed his eyes shut. “I can’t…”

“It’s okay,” I whispered. “It’s not dangerous to anybody.”

“I just got out of denial on this,” he said, trembling slightly. “I’m not _ gay, _ but I’m… into both…”

There was a long silence.

“Are you bisexual or pansexual or something like that?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Steve admitted. “I’m bi. You’re the second person I’ve ever told that but-”

“There’s a lot of shame surrounding that, isn’t there?” Riley asked.

“Yeah,” Steve admitted, still sweating. 

“But not having to hide that from Dani and knowing she still loves you, it must feel like a huge relief,” Riley said.

“I love him more for being able to tell me this,” I said, rubbing his back. “And I hate that he’s so scared of telling people we know. He’d find so much acceptance if he came out to the world.”

“It’s true,” Riley said. “The people who love you will be there and understand. Dani’s right here, and she loves you. She’s showing you a lot of support. How does that make you feel?”

Steve was shaking in my arms. “I feel like I’m robbing her. She could be with somebody better. That I could have never subjected her to having to cover up for me.”

“That’s not possible,” I said softly, stroking his back. “I don’t have to cover up for anything.”

“I’m not… I’m not a man.”

“Yeah, you are,” I said softly.

“Look into her eyes, really look,” Riley said.

I looked up into his face. He looked down into my eyes.

“Steve, what do you see?”

He studied my eyes, and I saw the tears form. My own tears formed. “My fiancée?”

“No, what do you see in her eyes?”

I could see so much pain in Steve’s eyes. He rarely told me about how tough his childhood had been, being so sick and so poor, and so alone. He tried to be the emotional cowboy, the tough guy who didn’t need anybody. That wasn’t true. “I see… the truest friend I’ve ever had in my whole life. Somebody who loves me. Even though I don’t feel like I deserve it.”

“Dani, do you feel like there’s anything about him that makes him disgusting or unlovable?”

“No,” I answered. “Not at all.”

“Steve, do you see the love for you in her eyes? Don’t look away.”

He blinked and the tears fell. Mine were already streaming down my cheeks. It was there. I wanted to tell him that, but he had to see it for himself. 

“I do.”

“You see it?”

“Yes.”

I could take in his sobs, his gasps, he was so close… 

“Do you see anything else?”   


“Understanding. Compassion.”

“When you’re ready, you can look away,” Riley said. Steve didn’t look away, only closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to mine. I closed mine, too, and I felt the tears drip down his nose onto mine.

Oh, it was incredible, the way it felt right now.

“The way she feels, the way she’s accepted you. The people closest to you, the ones that don’t want to impose anything on you, they’re going to have the same understanding and compassion. Does that make sense?”

He nodded, I felt it. I opened my eyes to see his still shut, tear drops clinging to his beautiful lashes.

“How do you feel, now?”   


Steve eyes finally opened, slowly. I slipped my hands up his shoulders to the back of his neck. He had had a haircut recently, I could feel it as I ran my fingertips up the base of his skull. I realized his heart wasn’t pounding so hard any more. I couldn’t feel it.

“Calmed? Kind of numb. Relieved. And so thankful for Dani.”

“Dani, how to you feel?”

“I love him so much. I keep finding ways to love him more, even though I keep thinking that’s not possible.”

“Love is not a finite resource,” Riley agreed. “Is there anything else you wanted process in today’s session?”

“It’s already over?” Steve asked.

“Almost,” Riley said. “How are you feeling?”   
“I feel like- I feel like there’s so much more to talk about,” Steve stuttered.

“We can schedule another time to meet, either one-on-one or as a couple,” she said.

“I definitely want to meet again,” I said.

She got out her schedule book. “Alright, when’s good for the two of you?”

 

* * *

 

“Why didn’t you tell me that’s what was going to happen?” Steve asked.

“I did! You just weren’t listening!” I cried as we took the Uber home. “Aren’t you glad I made you take an Uber instead of your bike?”

“Yes. You know what you’re doing,” he admitted. “And I think you’re doing to great things when you’re in Riley’s position.”

“Thank you, baby,” I replied, kissing him on the cheek. His eyes were still red and a little swollen. “Doesn’t it feel good to get all these feelings out and process them with another person?”

“It sure does,” he agreed. “It’s kind of like going to confession.”

“Exactly. This is what I’ll be doing for people. And there’s no shame in it.”

At my apartment, Steve laid down for a few minutes while I decompressed and read at my desk.

I wondered if he’d start going to therapy full-time. It was exciting for me to see him having such a good reaction to therapy. God knows I had done enough as a single person. I wondered if I’d undercover things for myself to work on as a bride.

I dressed for teaching the dance class, and by the time I came out of the bathroom, Steve was waking up. 

“I’m going to teach ballroom,” I said. “How are you feeling?”   
“I had some weird dreams.”

“Good,” I said. “That means your frontal cortex is having movement and is processing things for you.”   
He scoffed for a second and I expect him to call it malarkey, but he stopped. “Weird,” he replied, shaking his head. “Why don’t I go with you to dance class?”

I squealed. “Yes! You can help me teach!”

He got dressed and we took his motorcycle to the learning center. We arrived with only five minutes to spare, but that was enough. I saw Berney Schwartz had arrived with another girlfriend. 

“It’s good to see you again, Danielle,” he said, giving me a hug and a kiss. “We missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

“Good to see you, Steven.”

“Good to see you too,” Steve said.

“He’s going to be my demonstration partner tonight,” I said. “Sorry.”

Berny grinned. “I can find my own date.”

I called the class to order and Steve and I demonstrated the first step for the night that we’d work on: the single liddy, and I chose a slower dance song,  _ Stompin’ at the Savoy _ . Most of my dancers were the seniors, and they liked the exercise, it wasn’t too fast of a song for them. After a few steps, Steve managed to lead me, and we did the brush turn. I started teaching my dancers the turn, and then the Sugar Push on the next song. The Sugar Push was a little more complicated step in West Coast Swing, and it took them all a little more practice, but Steve picked it up almost immediately.

By the time our hour was up in the dance studio, I was pretty sure my dancers were getting the Sugar Push step down. 

As we finished class, Steve and I decided to go out for a drink before going home. “I decided on telling you something I probably shouldn’t,” he said as we held hands, walking down the street.

“What is it?” I asked, feeling nervous.

“People have identified me on the internet, according to S.H.I.E.L.D.”

I felt like a brick had been dropped in my stomach.

“The major news networks are considering this legitimate news, but I’ve had some people ring my door buzzer I didn’t know that I’ve had to call the cops on. If they find out who I am, they’re going to know who you are. This is part of the reason I want you to move to New York, if someone were to come by your apartment when I wasn’t home and… you won’t let me buy you a new apartment.”

“I always felt like that was going overboard, but…”

“Will you consider it, now?”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “Let me just see where I get a practicum site, okay?”

“Okay.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work feels like I've been smacked with a ton of bricks. I'm so relieved, school is tomorrow. Did I say that? Omg...

My feet ached as I bussed the last tray of dishes to the back. “You can run on, you’ve stayed entirely too late,” Ron said. “Dani, go.”

“I don’t mind,” I said, shrugging, loading the dishes properly for the dishwasher and it came to life.

“This is the last load you’re taking,” he warned as the restaurant dishwasher finished in 90 seconds. “Now go clock out.”

I pulled the bussing crate out of the machine and dried my hands on a dishcloth. “Thanks, Ron.”

I clocked out and grabbed my backpack from the lockers to change clothes in the restroom.

“Let me guess, you’re going back to New York to see Steeeeve,” Barry sang.

I rolled my eyes. “That’s none of your business,” I sang back.

“Come on Dani, we’re friends, you can tell me. Where are you going?”

“I’m interviewing for a practicum site in New York, so yeah, I’m going to go stay with him,” I said. I had gotten an interview at the Stark Foundation, of course I wasn’t going to mention that. I had been offered a site that was a private practice that specialized in Internal Family Systems in the Georgetown area, too. IFS was a great treatment for eating disorders, and I really could use it after I graduated.

“Bring condoms, am I right?” he giggled.

I groaned. I could have said something to Ron for HR purposes, but it would be spitting in his face after he helped fixed my A/C.

I ignored it and changed clothes in the restroom. As I walked out to the dining room, Barry came out with his mop and bucket.

“You’re leaving without saying goodbye?” he asked, mock offended.

“Yeah, ‘bye.”

“No hug? You’re going away for a few days!”

I realized he was dead serious. Well, he had helped me with my A/C unit. I gave him a hug, and he hugged me so hard my feet left the floor. I gasped, slightly. Steve would hug me this way, and it was kind of a joke, but with Barry, it felt weird.

“Travel safely,” Barry said.

“Thanks. Goodnight,” tumbled out of my mouth before I could help it.

I had delivered Lourdes Marie to Joel and Alissa already, so my backpack was filled with my computer and iPad and a pair of shoes for the interview. Traveling light on the way to New York was the way to go.

I wasn’t stupid enough to sleep on the train. I did some reading of my DSM instead, although. Steve sent me a text that he had saved some dinner for me, including chicken. I grinned to myself: he had probably cooked it right. I started to get tired. I arrived in New York at about 2 am, and took the subway to Brooklyn immediately. It was after 1 am when I arrived at Steve’s apartment and the lights were still on. He had left the door open to his unit when I got past the main door to his building.

“ _ A ghra, táim sa bhaile! _ ” I called, opening the door.

He said something quickly in Gaelic, coming out of the kitchen. 

“What?” I asked.

“I said, ‘ _ Welcome home, how was your trip? _ ’” he kissed me.

“I’m so tired,” I admitted. “But I missed you.”

“Come on and eat your dinner.”

The plate was still in the oven, and he got it out with a dish towel for me. He poured a glass of wine for myself from the box in the fridge he kept there: I had trained him well. He poured one for himself, too. “I think I’m ready for the interview, I’ve been reviewing my DSM manual the whole ride here. I’m wondering how difficult of an interview this is going to be, how hard are the case studies they’ll be having me consult on?”

“It can’t be too tough, I mean, you’re only a student, they wouldn’t try to trick you, would they?”

I grimaced. “Maybe? This is my foot in the door to the Stark Foundation. As much as I have a heart for Veterans, they’re not the population I want to work with, but they’d be doing student loan reimbursement if I got a job with them out of school.”

“Don’t worry about that right now,” he said. “Just tell yourself you have no student loan debt when you go in and you already have your choice of practicums. Bruce says the worst thing you can do is come off as desperate for the job in the interview these days..”

I nodded, shoveling some bites of potato. I wanted to get my dinner over and quickly as possible so I could get some sleep. “Why are you relying on what Bruce says?” I asked.

“When I was trying to get a job in the 30s, you could just go out the street and up to a factory, and knock on the door and say, ‘Hey, you got a job?’ And most of the time, you’d get it.”

I groaned. I had completely forgotten how much the American employment landscape had changed since he had been frozen. Bruce’s advice was right, though.

After dinner, we went to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. The result of the interview was going to determine the course of Steve and my relationship for the next year. I tossed and turned while Steve snored slightly. I got up and went to the living room to read some more of my DSM manual on the couch, but right as I turned the lamp on, Steve’s sleepy voice carried through the apartment.

“Can you not sleep?”

“No,” I admitted, going back into the bedroom.

Steve sat up in bed and switched the beside lamp on and rubbed some sleep from his eyes. “Okay, listen,” he said. “Let’s talk this out. What are you afraid of?”

“I know what I’m afraid of: this determining the next year of our lives together,” I said, sitting down on the bed with him. 

“What is it?”

“I have to get this one.”

“So you have to move to New York and be with me?”

“Yes, partly.”

“You were really excited about that private practice that liked you and offered you a practicum.”

“I am excited, yes. That’s my population I want.”

“Then don’t go to the interview tomorrow.”

“But-”

“I know you want to move in with me, but what’s one more year? We’ll just set up house and move in after we get married like they used to do it.”

“If I don’t show up at the interview tomorrow, it’ll be a huge insult to Tony Stark.”

“Tony’ll live. He’s had worse rejections than that.”

“No, how will he treat you? I mean, he sent Pepper to ask me to apply. How will she take it? I really like her, she knows what it’s like to date an Avenger and I really want to be her friend!” I cried, even though it sounded incredibly stupid when I said it aloud. “I know that sounds dumb, but-”

“You have to talk to other people about me?” Steve asked, looking a little offended.

“I can’t go around telling my friends you were cryostasis for seventy years!” I cried. “Or that you grew up in the Great Depression!”

“So if you don’t take the internship with the Stark Foundation, you think you can’t be friends with Pepper?”

“I don’t know,” I muttered. “I mean…”

“She’s not that petty. She’s got a good head on her shoulders, it’s the only thing that keeps Tony in line.”

“What if I don’t get this one? What does that say about me? I’m not that smart, then. How does this affect us? How will it affect your relationship with Tony on the team? If I don’t get this, I won’t be moving in with you, and we started talking about it and-”

“Stop. Danielle, stop it… we’ll just keep up like we’ve been doing. And if you don’t get this one, this doesn’t mean you’re not good at what you do. And is Tony interviewing you?”

I felt stupid. He was a busy man, he was not a psychologist or even a therapist. God knows he could have used some therapy himself. “No.”

“He manages a lot of people. So…”

I rubbed my forehead. “Ugh, I feel stupid,” I admitted. 

“I guess we can do this part-time thing living together. It doesn’t matter, though. You’ve got to get your education, I know that now. And I’m going to support whatever you decide on. Now, let’s try to get some sleep? Please?”

* * *

I slept like a baby after that. The next morning, Steve got called out to duty super early, and I woke up to him gathering his things in a rush and running out the door before sunlight with a quick explanation. Breakfast was alone and leisurely, and I dressed in my interview outfit of a bird-printed sleeveless blouse in blue and yellow and a navy pencil skirt and flats, putting my hair up on top of my head in a bun with light make-up.

I headed into Stark Towers, which was still marked with a lone “A” on the top floors, and went up to the eleventh floor, checking in with the receptionist. I was fifteen minutes early, so I opened my DSM manual on my phone’s e-reader and reviewed the anxiety disorders while some other students were doing something similar. Twenty minutes later, we were called in, and given a spiel about what the Stark Foundation was and what it wanted to accomplish from a lady in a black pant suit. After this, we were taken to a room with study carols and given case studies to review and to make a diagnosis, after this, we could take a lunch, as long as we got back to the eleventh floor by one pm.

The one I got was hard. A woman in her mid-fifties was presenting with signs of anxiety and panic attacks, possibly depression, stating she was going to die of an unknown disease and nobody cared. I reviewed her medication list and opened up my prescription medication app on my phone to review them and what side effects they could have, looking for a drug interaction. I didn’t find one. I started to write my diagnosis, and then I noticed something. She had been prescribed a blood pressure medication, Lipitor, and an epileptic drug, Topamax. I reviewed her list of medical complaints, opening that list up on the computer. The list was enormous. The different drugs indicated an enormous amount of conditions. 

_ Possible side-effects induced, over 46 individual prescriptions. _

She was too young to be this sick, but her medical doctor had said she was mostly healthy when she had last presented in the ER. 

And then, it struck me. I opened up my ereader to find Factitious Disorder in the DSM. Her complaints and threats suddenly lined up. 

Munchausen Syndrome.

I entered my analysis into the diagnosis and completed it, sending it off.

Well, that was that. I’d find out later if I passed the case study.

I had a salad at a deli down the street from Stark Tower, considering what I had responded with. What if I had gotten it wrong? I wouldn’t know. I checked my phone to see if Steve had gotten back, yet. Nothing.

Back at the eleventh floor, I waited in the lobby again, knowing I’d have to defend my diagnosis in front of my interviewers when I was called back. “Danielle Conyers?” the receptionist asked. Two women were standing behind her at the reception desk as I stood up.

“Right this way,” the lady in a suit said, guiding me back to a conference room. “I’m Kristen Steele, this is Amanda Boynton. We reviewed your diagnosis of the case study while you were at lunch.”

“Oh, good,” I said. “It’s nice to meet you both.”

After we did the formalities of introductions and the typical interview questions, they got down to the case study diagnosis. “We discussed your answer of Factitious Disorder on the client, and we’d like to know how you came up with that,” Ms Boynton said.

I felt myself break into a cold sweat. Both of them were unreadable. I couldn’t tell if I had gotten it right or wrong. I had to defend my choice. “Well… to start with, I noticed she was quite defensive,” I began. “And… then I looked at the list of medications she was prescribed.”

“Why would you look at that?” Ms Steele asked sharply.

“Um… well, I was looking for drug interactions that could be causing her symptoms.”

“But you’re not training in medicine or pharmacology.”

“I um… I used my phone? An app on it?” I said, feeling light-headed. Was I not supposed to use my phone? 

There was suddenly a cacophony down the hall, and some voices arguing. I noticed Ms Steele and Ms. Boynton looked alarmed, and the door to the conference room suddenly burst open, and there standing in the doorway was none other than Tony Stark himself.

He was wearing a pair of black jeans and combat boots and a Black Sabbath t-shirt that had what was probably toothpaste stains on it. There were circles under his eyes and his hair was mussed. I could see the glowing blue circle in the middle of his chest through the t-shirt.

“Mr. Stark!” Ms. Boynton cried, frazzled. “We weren’t expecting you!”

“Danielle Conyers, I presume?” he asked. He didn’t wait for my answer. “ _ Me chará na sas synantíso, allá elpízo na férete ta koulourákia. _ ” I sat there, stunned. “Of course, I know from your fiancé that you don’t really speak Greek, but I just wanted to run that past you. I got to see your diagnosis a few minutes ago, and I dare say you’re the only practicum applicant who got the diagnosis correct so far that we’ve interviewed. Bravo. Ladies, let’s just stop the interview right here and offer her the position.”

“I, uh- I’m honored,” I spluttered, stunned and almost ready to fangirl. 

“If you really knew me, you wouldn’t be that impressed,” he said, brushing me off, walking around the conference table to pour himself a glass of water from the end of the table and grab a donut. He chugged it and took a giant bite of the pink donut. “I’ve really got to do something about the humidity controls on the quinjet,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist, clearing his throat. “I’m going to go get some rest, but Ms. Boynton, Ms Steele, can you make sure to comp Miss Conyers’ ride back to Brooklyn?”

The stood there, stuttering.

“And Miss Conyers, I’m not expecting and immediate answer, but please, let me know,” he said, taking my hand in his free one, shaking it. I could see he was exhausted. He took another bite of his donut. “And I wouldn’t mind another batch of those koulourakia if you feel like it, just bring them up to the penthouse. Oh, and Pepper says hi.”

He strode out like a hurricane, leaving the room destroyed in his wake. Ms. Boynton and Ms. Steele’s professional demeanors had been obliterated and I myself was a bit starstruck too.

“Well, I’m gonna let myself out,” I said awkwardly. “It was nice meeting you both, and I really hope to see you soon.”

* * *

My first official time to speak and meet with Tony Stark had been enough to put me into a daze on the ride back to Brooklyn. I had figured that the Avengers had just landed on the helipad at Stark Towers, and Mr. Stark had come down to find me immediately. I wondered if Steve was on that helipad, being debriefed.

When I got home, I sat down on the couch, stunned for a moment.

I had just been offered the position. Had Steve said something to him? Was that why he offered me the spot? Had I really gotten the diagnosis of the case study right? I was going to be so mad at Steve if he had gotten Mr. Stark offer me the spot so I’d move to New York over doing my practicum and internship at DC Children’s Hospital. I wouldn’t take the Stark Foundation’s position if that was the case. 

My insecurities went wild. 

Was I only getting this offer because Steve had talked Tony into it so I’d move here with him? Would I be backed into this corner and feel  _ pressured _ to take the internship? Would Steve be hurt if I didn’t and chose to take a DC internship?

To clear my head, I got up and started gathering the ingredients for koulourakia in the kitchen as the door opened.

“ _ A ghra, táim sa bhaile,”  _ Steve called.

“Hey,” I said, putting down the mixing bowl I had gotten out of the cabinet. I went to the living room to greet him. 

“So how did the interview go?” Steve asked, taking off his backpack, tossing it on the couch.

“Well, Tony Stark burst in, looking like a hobo who just woke up and offered me the position,” I said. 

“Sounds like him,” Steve chuckled, taking off his watch and unbuttoning the collar of his shirt.

“Did you tell him to offer me the practicum and internship?”

“What?” Steve asked, surprised, hand frozen at his neck. “Why would I do that?”

“Because that would ensure I’d move to New York to finish my degree. Was all that lip service last night?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. “Are you trying to make sure I do it? Even if it’s not the best thing for me?”

“I would never do that to you!” Steve cried. “This is your choice and I want what’s best! Do you think I’m lying?”

He had never lied to me before, he was right. But manipulating me? Had I really failed the case study and Tony Stark was doing this just to be a bro to him? “Did you tell Tony Stark that I wouldn’t move to New York before graduation unless I had the position?”

“Why would you ask that?” Steve asked, still sounding stunned.

“I don’t know that I got the case study right,” I said. “Did Tony tell you about it?”

“No, we didn’t even discuss your interview today. Even if we did discuss it, Tony’s not my friend. He’s on my team, but we wouldn’t help each other out like that in our personal lives. He’s not going to do me any favors when it comes to you, he’s very single-minded and hits a bunch of the personality traits of a narcissist. I’ve read your DSM manual, you know.”

“He blew a game of blackjack so you could take me to Monaco.”

“We don’t know that for certain. Listen, Dani, he’s never lied to me, that I know of. And he wouldn’t lie to you by proxy. Did he tell you that you got the case study diagnosis right?”

“Yeah, but, he’s not a psychologist.”

“He bragged to me that he read the DSM in one night a few months ago. He knows it, trust me. You got the diagnosis right if he said you did. So you got the offer fair and square by your own merit.”

That meant I had gotten it right.

All my insecurities evaporated. 

_ I had gotten it right! _

And Mr. Stark hadn’t lied to me, if Steve was correct: I had been the only applicant to diagnosis it correctly.

But still, this meant that I had no real reason to not move to New York. “So I guess you expect me to take the position, don’t you?” I said. “When it’s not even my population I want to work with.”

“I told you, it’s your choice.” 

“Well, that’s a lousy choice! Do this part-time living together thing, tearing up the railways between DC and New York for another year or move in together, but at the expense of me not getting to intern with my chosen population?”

“You’re right, moving to New York would be lousy for you. I’ll move to DC if the Stark Foundation practicum and internship doesn’t work out, and we can live together there.”

I raised my eyebrows, stunned. Steve still had a hard time with the idea of making sacrifices for my career, sometimes, even though he forced himself to reason it out at times, just to be the good guy he was and we had to talk it out at times. But, he was voluntarily offering to move for my career. “In my tiny apartment?”

“No, we’ll upgrade. To some place a little more like Alissa and Joel’s. I’ll give up this apartment, and we’ll find one with a really nice bathtub that you can swim laps in, if that makes you happy. S.H.I.E.L.D. isn’t headquartered in New York, you know.”

“It’s not?” I asked, surprised.

“No, it’s in DC.”

“I thought the Avengers were stationed out of New York-”

“We are. But S.H.I.E.L.D. isn’t. It’s headquartered in the Triskelion building downtown DC.”

“How did I not know that?” I asked, remembering the ominous building near the river that was always filled with people, but mysterious.

“I don’t ever recall you asking.”

“But- this is where your career is!”

“I know. But we didn’t agree we had to  _ live _ in the city. Clint doesn’t. Neither does Bruce. And Tony’s talking about creating a compound north of the city for training for us and I’d stay there when I was on call, you could stay in DC and do your internship. I’m not chained here to New York.”

“But- I thought-”

“You never asked.”

I was stunned. “I’m surprised to hear you agreeing to a move,” I admitted.

“I’m gonna support you,” he said. “I’m not going to carry the vibranium shield forever. And DC’s looking mighty good these days anyways.”

“You’d sacrifice living in your hometown to be with me?” I said carefully.

“It’s not a sacrifice. And it’s not forever. We’ll just reevaluate things after you graduate. They always said in the Army ‘a failure to plan is a plan to fail.’ So, we’ll just make plans and stick a timeline. That’s all.”

“I love you,” I admitted, throwing my arms around his neck to kiss him.

“I love you, too, Sasquatch,” he said into my hair.

“Hey!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write some porn in this chapter, it just didn't fit, and the next chapter isn't going to have it. Chapter 6 will have some coming up, though.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: There is some dominant sex in this chapter (all consenual) and also included is sexual assault and forced sexual contact (not Steve, are you kidding me?). I hope you'll read the closing notes as well.

That night, I got an email offering me the internship and practicum at the DC Children’s Hospital while we were waiting on the koulourakia to finish baking.

 

“So which one are you going to take?” Steve asked.

I read the email over and over. Steve had told me to choose my internship site as if I didn’t have to worry about student loans. And I liked the DC Children’s hospital because I wanted to work with children and trauma, but then again, I wanted to go to the private practice. “I honestly don’t know,” I mumbled. “I don’t know if I want to go to DC or New York.”

“Let’s try to be pragmatic about this,” he said. “I told you not to worry about the incentives and connections. Let’s make a list of pros and cons about DC and New York.”

“Okay,” I said as he got out a legal pad and made two columns on it. Where was my black-and-white all-or-nothing soldier? This pragmatic guy was being the future husband I needed.

“Let’s start with the offers in DC” he said. “Okay, to start with, why do you want to intern there?”

“That’s my desired population. They’ve got an eating disorder IOP and residential program, IFS,” I said as he scribbled it down. “And it’s so close to my school. So is the private practice. And I wouldn’t have to move away from my DC friends. It’s closer to my family, too.”

“Anything else?”

I shook my head. 

“So what are the cons?”

“Um… I’d be in DC, still, and it’s expensive, more expensive than New York,” I said. “And I’d still have to serve in a restaurant-”

“You could get another job,” he prodded, putting that into the pro column. 

“It would take you away from the Avengers HQ,” I said. “You’d feel pressured to move to DC to be with me. It doesn’t offer incentives or a post-graduate position.”

“This is about you,” he said, not writing down the cons I had named.

“But this is also about you,” I said. “Remember when we agreed we were a team? Write that stuff down.”

“Okay, okay,” he scribbled a few sentences. “Anything else?”

“No,” I admitted.

“Alright, good,” he said, flipping the page of the legal pad. He made a new page for New York. “Pros of working for the Stark Foundation.”

“Good incentives, good opportunity for a post-graduate job,” I said. “You wouldn’t have to move, I’d get out of my crappy apartment in DC. You wouldn’t have to be far away from your team. You wouldn’t have to commute to the compound. That’s really all I can think of. The cons would be I’d have to commute to DC to finish classes, and I’d be accused of nepotism if your relationship with Tony Stark got out.”

“What relationship? It’s purely professional,” Steve scoffed.

“I’d be further away from my family, too,” I added softly. “We haven’t broken the news to my father about our engagement yet, either.”

“Yeah, about that…”

Guilt crept up my stomach, souring it.

“Anything else?” he asked.

I shook my head and he handed me the legal pad to compare with the pen. I had to decide what was the most important thing, so I started assigning a scale of 1-5 of importance. 

At the end, I found that I was rating Steve’s comfort higher than my own. 

I wanted to make the right choice for my career, here.

But I just couldn’t. Not without thinking about Steve.

The numbers on the rating scale didn’t add up.

“Look, it doesn’t have to be tonight that you make your choice,” Steve said, sensing my frustration. “Let’s just sleep on it.”

I dressed in my pajamas and went to the bedroom. Steve and I laid down together and turned out the lights.

I still could not sleep.

I tossed and turned.

“Danielle!”

“What?” I snapped.

“Okay, what would help you fall asleep?” Steve asked, tossing back the covers.

“I’ve tried everything,” I muttered disheartened.

“We haven’t tried everything.” I saw him drawing his undershirt off in the moonlight.

“Well, what do you suggest?” I grumbled. He pulled me up off the mattress onto my knees.

“Take your top off.”

“What?” I asked, surprised as he rifled through the nightstand drawer. Was he suggesting what I think he was suggesting?

He tossed the bottle of lube onto the bed. “I told you to take your top off.” He grabbed a fist full of my top and drew it up over my head, exposing my breasts, and I gasped. “I’m going to wear you out, if that doesn’t do it, something’s wrong with you. Or you’ve had too much coffee.” He pinched one of my nipples, none too gently, making me gasp and wetness pooling between my legs.

“Steve!” I gasped, surprised.

His point was loud and clear: he was going to fuck me into exhaustion. I cried out at his fingers, and he twisted them slightly.

“Oh!” I gasped. He twisted the other one with his other hand, and I ground my hips into the mattress. He tugged them slightly, elongating my breasts. He tugged a little harder. 

“Too much?” he asked.

“No,” I gasped. “I want it… rough.”

“You got it.” His fingers let up, and I groaned in disappointment as he turned me over, so that my back was facing him. He came up behind me and cupped my breast with his hands, massaging them. I rubbed my ass against his hips, hoping to feel some semblance of an erection. Dry humping wasn’t something we hadn’t done in a while. I rubbed his wrist with a freehand, stabilizing myself with the other. He massaged my breasts thoroughly, stroking them. I hardly noticed my t-shirt bunched up around my armpits and neck until he pushed it up over my head to get it off me. ‘

“How do you want me?” I asked.

“I want you completely spent so you finally go to sleep,” he said, pressing a noisy kiss to the crook of my shoulder, pulling me back to sit in his lap. He massaged my tits until my nipples were stiff peaks, agitating the need in my clit, pressing soft kisses along my shoulders and the nap of my neck. “Do you think about girls?”

“No, only you,” I admitted.

“You’re lying.”

I grimaced. “A little bit. Only with you, though, if you’d like it.”

His hand crossed to the opposite breast, and his freehand slipped into my pajama bottoms down the front. His fingers slid down into my new pubic hair, into my wetness and I cried out as his fingers webbed through my pubic hair into my cleft. His fingers stroked my clit, gently and slowly at first.

“Oh, that feels good!” I admitted.

“Do you want more?” he said, voice husky in my ear. 

“Yes!”

His fingers sped up their ministrations, and my back arched involuntarily. 

“Baby!” I cried. “Oh, yes!” I felt the pressure rising inside me.

“Let it out,” he instructed. “That’s a good girl.”

I loved it, deep down, when he talked down to me during sex. I rubbed my ass against his hips  again, feeling his erection growing.

“That’s good. Just right,” he uttered into my ear. “Cum for me.”

I closed my eyes, and imagined him pounding into me from behind, and I let the orgasm take me over. “Yes! Yes, Steve! Steven, it’s perfect!” I cried, feeling my legs trembling, almost giving out of me. I cried out a few more times and felt the orgasm take over, my toes curling.

“That’s it.”

“Oh God…”

He patted my hip as I recovered from what had just happened. 

“Steve…”

He flipped me over onto my back. I realized he was far from done, yet, and I cried out again. He took my panties and pajama bottoms and pulled them up over my hips, up over my feet, tossing the last of my clothing aside to the floor, and pressed my legs up to my chest.

“Steve!” I cried, accusingly this time.

He dipped his head down out of my view, and I felt his thumbs slide up the insides of my lips. “Don’t move,” he commanded, one of his thumbs brushing my sensitive clit. 

I squealed, trying not to flinch, but I did.

His tongue, wet and hot, grazed the length of my lips. I cried out, surprised.

He lapped me like a cat lapping up water, his hands sliding up the backs of my thighs, holding them in place while his tongue parted my inner lips. “Fuck!” I cried.

“Language, Miss Conyers,” he reminded me, and a hand slipped down to slap my ass cheek gently.

“Ungh!” I heard myself gasp. “It just felt so good, baby,” I apologized, but my words were cut off when his thumb slid inside me. “I’ll watch my mouth,” I promised, hoping he wouldn’t stop. 

“Yeah, right. We’ll see how that promise works out. Just keep your legs up.”

I closed my eyes, and tried to relax. A strangled cry escaped my lips as his tongue slid up my entrance to my clit, licking it in circles. If he didn’t have such a firm hold on the backs of my knees, I’d have started humping his face. He changed his technique on my clit, and gave my leg a squeeze to warn me.

He continued to eat me out, with my knees up around my chin, exposed, my toes curling. Little gasps and pants came out of my mouth as I struggled to hold my legs in place. I ran my fingertips up and down the backs of my thighs and tried to lay back and enjoy his tongue sliding up and down my slit, his thumbs gently and slowly tracing my lips. I couldn’t catch my breath, and the new orgasm came up in waves. I had never had an orgasm in this position before, and holy hell, it was hot!

Steve guided my feet down so that I was laying on my back on the mattress. I had never thought I’d find that position enjoyable, but it had been. 

“Are you going to go to sleep now?” Steve asked me, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, lifting his head.

I thought about it for a moment. “I’ll try.”

“You’ll try or you’ll do? What was it Yoda said in that movie?”

“Are you seriously quoting _Star Wars_ with me after sex?” I asked, sitting up. “Because I can’t think about pop culture movies right now with tomorrow-”

An annoyed look crossed his face, and he stood up, and cupped the back of my head. He was firm about it, a little annoyed. And oh shit, he was so hot right now, pushing his shorts down so that his cock was in my face. In one quick move, he gripping his cock at the base and shoved it into my mouth. “You need to shut up now. I’m going to wear you out because I cannot take you up all night. Now, suck.” 

His cock being shoved in my mouth was a surprise, but I liked this behavior, taking control, no longer the timid neophyte and virgin who needed to ask me permission to touch me. I liked that he respected me when getting to know me, but now, he could take control like this with me because we were old lovers, used to each other. I liked this more dominant version of him in bed, not the shy, nervous thing he had been when we first made love. I attacked his cock with aplomb, my head bobbing and sucking, his hand tangling in the hair at the base of my neck. A squeak came from the back of my throat, and I pressed my hands to the one gripping my hair to remind him. His head was thrown back, mouth agape, heavy breaths passing his mouth, but he stopped, looking down to me, and he let go of my hair, pressing his hand against the wall to provide himself some stability. I attacked his rigid column of flesh with renewed vigor, trying to use my tongue to draw shapes on the length. I drew back to flick the tip of my tongue across the tiny hole on his head, and I felt his abdomen muscles contract. I pulled back, gripping him at the base of his shaft, tugging his shorts all the way down so he was completely naked, now, like me. I cupped his balls, squeezing slightly, knowing how he liked it. I slid a finger past his scrotum, finding his taint, and rubbed the wrinkled line. That did it, and he pulled back from me, drawing his cock out of my mouth forcefully. “Danielle!”

I saw his hips jut forward, and he started cumming. I let him cum on my forehead, in my hair, and then down my chin. I tried to catch his load in my mouth.

“I swore I’d never do that to you,” he muttered. He sighed and tried to wipe it off my hair line. I wiped at my own chin, and off my forehead, but had nowhere but sheets to wipe it off my hand, and I didn't want to do that.

“Where’d you get the idea to do that to me?” I teased. “It’s okay. You just rocked my world when I was on my back.”

“Who told you that you could that?” Steve demanded, picking up our discarded clothing in the dark to wipe me off.

“Do what?” I asked, surprised. It wasn’t the first time I had massaged his prostate during a blow job. He picked up my pajama pants and started wiping my head off roughly. “You didn’t like me rubbing your taint?”

He growled. “Don’t talk like that. And I didn’t say you could do what you just did-”

“Then don’t shove your cock in my mouth without asking first,” I snorted. 

He tossed my cum-stained pants aside and scooped me up with his other arm, carrying me to the dresser, where he threw me over it, restraining me by bending my arm back behind me. Oh hell, he was mad, but turned on. I revelled that I had managed to get him to that point, giddy, wanting to cum again. He didn’t do anything to me for a moment, and I squirmed, nervous. Was he planning something else? Had I really upset him by fingering his prostate? Oh shit… he was mad about it. I had just done something to violate him! Oh man… he wasn’t playing. I had really upset him.

“Steve, I didn’t mind you making me suck you off,” I pleaded, my feet dangling off the floor. “I thought it was just want you wanted, I’m sorry, baby!” I wriggled under his grip, his hips pressed to my ass, keeping me bent over the dresser. “I’ll never do it again-”

“There are condoms in the top drawer. I want you to get one out with your freehand.”

He wanted control. He wanted to fight me for it. And damn, it was sexy.

I struggled to open the dresser drawer, and see what I was doing in my position. He let go wrist, and helped me with finding the box, and got one out faster than I could in my position. His go-go cock was probably going to rise again, quickly, something that normal men without that super soldier serum couldn’t do. I wriggled my butt against it, mewling like I was scared, when, deep down, I wanted it. He pulled back slightly and his freehand came down on my butt cheek, making a clapping noise. It was like a bite from an animal on my behind. Pain inked across my hip like a burn.

He just spanked me!

I should have been offended, but a quick gasp escaped my lips, and my heartbeat raced. “Ah, God!” I cried, feeling a tingling in my rock-hard nipples. He heard him fapping behind me, but I was afraid to move… 

I heard his breathing grow heavy. Reaching behind myself, I rubbed my stricken ass cheek, and held it open to him for some guidance. I heard him rip the condom open with his teeth and then his hand on my other cheek, spreading my ass apart. I closed my eyes, unable to catch my breath, and tried to relax my entrances. The head of his cock entered me, and I closed my eyes, gasping slightly. It felt fucking good.

He entered me at an achingly slow pace. He rubbed my cheek he was holding open, and I heard a low sigh come out of his mouth as he pushed his hard, latex-sheathed member further inside me.

“Beautiful,” he whispered. 

My eyes flew open and my back arched. I felt tears gathering it felt so right. “Oh, Steve,” I gasped as he bottomed out inside me, pulling back out.

“They all said women wouldn’t stay tight forever, but they were lying. They didn’t know about you,” he said in a ragged tone. “Ah, God, Danielle!”

I grabbed for my other asscheek, and he brushed my hand away, his thrusts speeding up. My nipples rubbed against the dresser top, hardening. His thrust slow down, pulling out, but I felt his cockhead slide up my taint. He tapped it again my backdoor entrance, and I cried out, tears sliding down my cheeks. I wanted his cock sliding into that virgin hole, but he didn’t. He tapped it a few times, and then went back into me, my own lubrication letting him glide in. He pulled back and repeated his movement, and pushed back inside me, pulsing inside.

My toes curled and I squeezed my eyes shut, and he pulled out of me, and I heard the snap of the latex coming off his cock. He fapped it a little, groaning in time, and I felt his hot load on my ass, on my hand, dripping down my valley. He grabbed a pair of socks from the open drawer, and frantically mopped up the semen before it could drip into my entrance.

“Don’t move, don’t move,” he whispered, pressing the fabric to my asshole. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

I nodded, letting the orgasm endorphins rush through my veins. “I know,” I whispered.

“I’ll never let that happen to you again,” he promised. “I love you too much. Especially right now.”

“Did you like it that way?” I asked, and he wiped off the rest of his load off my asscheeks with the socks.

“You were amazing. Especially the part where you were apologizing.”

“Hey!” I cried, as he helped me down off the dresser. 

“Let’s go take a shower and get cleaned up, Sasquatch," he said, taking me into his arms. He pressed some soft kisses to my forehead, despite it being coated in dried cum. "And get some sleep.”

 

* * *

 

I packed up the last of my things to go back to DC the next morning and Steve called a cab to go to Grand Central Station to send me off.

“Any closer to a decision?” he asked as we arrived at the train station.

“Why can’t someone else make this decision for me?” I whined. 

“You know what Ma used to tell me? Pray on it.”

I sighed, and knew that he was right.

“Send me a message when you get back to DC,” he said. “I’ll call you when I’m off duty tomorrow.”

“Alright. Bye,” I said, standing up on my toes to kiss him goodbye.

I was ready to get home to Lourdes Marie, but of course, I had work tonight, too.

Making the most of my time on the train ride, I read more of my assignment for class, but kept on getting distracted. The idea of our fate for the next year balancing on my shoulders made me tense.

Back at my apartment, Lourdes Marie watched me get ready for work and I started to get a massive headache. I took some ibuprofen before getting on the train to get to the diner.

I cringed a little inside when I saw Barry was in the kitchen today.

“Dani, hey, how did the interview go?” he asked immediately, seeing me.

“It went well,” I lied. “I’m kind of in the middle of deciding which internship to take, though. The one in DC or the one in New York.”

“Stay here!” one of the other cooks called. “We’ll miss your rack!”

I rolled my eyes as the other cooks cat-called me.

At six, Ron got a call from his mother that his son had gotten hurt at baseball practice, and was going to the hospital. The poor kid might have a sprained ankle, so he asked me to take over as shift manager for the rest of the shift while trying to keep my own tables for the night. It was a Friday night, and the diner was already filling up with the weekend crowd. This was not going to be an easy night. One of the servers got into an argument with a cook over a special order, and I had smooth that over, and then a huge group of Capitol Hill interns came in at ten after I had sent a server home after the dinner rush was over, leaving just two of us to serve the dining room.

By the time we had swept out the dining room, done all the closing duties, and rolled some silverware for the brunch crowd tomorrow, I was exhausted, but I sent the sole remaining server home once we flipped off the OPEN fluorescent sign in the window. The line cooks had cleaned up the kitchen and put away all the ingredients, so to save the payroll, I asked for volunteers on who wanted to stay to count down the cash so I could make a bank deposit slip. Barry immediately volunteered.

I didn’t want to be the ungrateful bitch who had used Barry for AC repair, so I tried not to grimace as the other cooks clocked out. Barry finished up the last of the kitchen duties as I went to the office to handle the safe and cash drawer.

“I got all the closing jobs done,” he said, darkening the office doorway. “I can sign on the deposit.”

“Thank you,” I said, just finishing it up. “You can count it down. The deposit should be for one thousand, two-hundred, seventy-two dollars and thirty-three cents.”  
I logged into the computer to type in the last few numbers as Barry counted it down. 

“Perfect,” he announced, tucking the money into the envelope. I handed him the pen to sign the accounting ledger and the deposit slip. I tucked it into the safe and locked it.

“You ready to clock out?” I asked, groaning as I stood up. My feet were pounding, throbbing, and I limped.

Barry’s hand immediately found the center of my back, and he started kneading the area between my shoulder blades.

“You don’t have to do that,” I said, as he typed in his employee number on the keypad.

“I don’t mind,” he said, clocking out. “You’re sure tense.”

I shrugged. “That’s life. I’m going to change into some street clothes, if you’ll give me a minute.”

“You’re sure I can’t help with that?” he asked.

“I can dress myself,” I said coldly.

“No, I meant your back.”

“Can I have a moment alone?” I asked, going to the employee lockers, opening mine up to get my purse and backpack.

“It’s not like you have something I haven’t seen before,” Barry snickered.

“I’m changing,” I reminded him.

“There are cameras in here, you know.”

“I know,” I said, climbing into my jeans, tugging them up under the waitress uniform skirt. My headache was coming back. I buttoned them and then unzipped the uniform, revealing the camisole I had worn under it, wriggling out the dress. 

“Wow, that’s a skill!” he cried.

“I learned a lot of things in marching band,” I said.

“At band camp?” he said suggestively, arching an eyebrow. I had completely forgotten about _American Pie_.

“Ugh, no. Band camp was nothing like that,” I groaned, folding my dress and putting it in my locker, locking it. “We were a bunch of dorks with farmer tans because our band director made us wear clothes that adhered with the dress code.”

I turned around to see Barry with a bottle of Biofreeze and I felt a chill in my veins. “Where do you want to do this?” he asked.

“I- um…”

“Lay down on the couch,” he instructed.

I was alone in this restaurant with him, but he was trying to be nice, wasn’t he? _Not everybody wants to fuck me_ , I reminded myself. Barry had offered me sex once when he overheard me saying to another server that I missed Steve, but I had reminded him that he was married. I didn’t fuck married men. He was a trained massage therapist, though. I’d be dumb not to have him work on me, right? And what was the harm? I was being histrionic, thinking that he wanted to get in my pants. That was dumb, too. I had just missed an entire day of work for that trip to New York for the interview, it wasn’t like I could afford to go to a massage therapist anyway. Barry knew I wasn’t sexually interested in him.

“Come on, Danielle, we’re burning moonlight. Face-down.”

He was bigger than me. A lot bigger. He had at least a hundred and fifty pounds on me, and he was a foot taller. 

I couldn’t _not_ comply.

He was harmless though. 

Right?

I walked over to the couch and laid face-down as instructed, and Barry knelt down beside me. Conflicting emotions were running through me. Barry knew we were just friends. But he was always suggestive and took things a little too far sometimes. But he knew better. Especially at work.

Then, I felt him tug my camisole up, exposing my back. He unhooked my bra, and then started tugging my jeans down.

_Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!_

“That’s enough!” I shouted, as he had my waistband tugged down so far, was certain my asscrack was showing. I felt horribly exposed, almost naked. Like he was leering at my naked body, and a part of me was desperate to cover up, but couldn’t find cover anywhere and he wasn’t looking away. But he was used to this, seeing people like this, he had been licensed.

“You have really pretty skin, you know that?” he asked, his voice smoother, more mellow. I wondered if he had been smoking weed with some of the other cooks outback after the dinner rush.

“Uh… thanks. I haven’t had a chance to get much of a tan this summer, though,” I said, the weird feelings in my stomach, that this wasn’t right, clashing with my brain that he was harmless and didn’t mean anything by it as he started working on rubbing my spine.

“No, it’s healthy to be pale,” he said. I felt my skin crawl. But he was just a friend, he knew that, right? “Pale is pretty. And it looks good on you.”

I swallowed. He worked on my back, talking to me, and I fought the feelings with common sense. I wasn’t _that_ sexy. I wasn’t _that_ beautiful. He wasn’t crazy about me, we were only friends, work friends at that. How idiotic would I look if I jumped up and called him a pervert and slapped him, running out of the diner? He’d call me a fool who overestimated her own attractiveness. I was also responsible for locking up. What would I tell Ron if I ran out of the restaurant, leaving it unlocked? I’d get fired in a heartbeat. I couldn’t let Ron down. 

And Steve… I tried not to think about him, but it felt so wrong what Barry doing, too intimate. But he was a professional. He did this for a living for a while. This wasn’t too intimate. Steve did this for me, and I realized why this was bothering me. Steve did this. I didn’t have to tell Steve about this, though. He kept on asking me questions, running his mouth, distracting me just enough that I couldn’t stop to organize my thoughts.

“Alright, I’m gonna sit down on the couch, you get on the floor, I’m going to get your shoulders,” he said.

I got up, but Barry immediately took my place on the couch. I got down on the floor, with my back to him.

“No, turn around,” Barry instructed. I turned around to face him, and he started on my shoulders. My bra straps slid off my shoulders and my bra edged its way off my breasts under my top as his fingers worked their way into my head and he asked me benal questions, never shutting up, never letting me think. 

He grinned down at me. “Wow, that’s a picture I’d like to remember,” he stated, leering down at me. I realized it was because my cleavage was showing and I was literally between his knees.

Oh fuck, this was a blow job position.

He chortled.

“Thanks for the massage, but I’ve got to get going,” I admitted.

“Let me get your feet,” he said. “Get up on here.”

I climbed back up on the couch, dazed, and he took my shoe off. He kneaded my foot, still talking while I hooked my bra behind myself. “You’ve got great feet.”

“I’ve got cankles,” I mumbled.

“No, your calves narrow,” he said, sliding his hand up my shins under my jeans. He kept on talking about things, moving on to kilts, and if I knew what they were made out of it, what they wore under them, etc. Finally, he was done, it was almost one am.

“You’ve got to set the alarm and lock up,” he reminded me.

“Yeah, okay,” I agreed, getting my keys out of my bag.

“I’ll make sure you get home okay,” he said. “Let me give you a ride.”

“No, I’m taking the metro,” I mumbled.

“I insist.”

“I’m fine,” I said, setting the alarm code. “I can get there.”

“DC’s a dangerous city,” he insisted. 

“I’ll can an Uber,” I replied.

“I’ll wait with you,” he insisted.

He stayed with me until the Uber came around the corner, and I got in the back.

“Are you sure I can’t drive you home?” he asked.

“I’m sure. Good night.”

I shut the door.

What the fuck had just happened?

 

* * *

 

That night, as I got home, the clashing feelings roiled inside my torso. _Had Barry been doing something inappropriate? Or was I just being conceited?_ I asked myself in the shower. It was enough to nauseate me.

He had undressed me partially. If he had had his way, my clothes would have come completely off. And he had made a gross comment when I had been on the floor. He had positioned me that way. He was always making gross comments with me and everybody else.

Oh my God, I realized, feeling sick. Tears started welling up in my eyes. He had just gotten some kind of sexual thrill out of giving me a massage.

I had let another man do to me what Steve did when we were alone and starting foreplay.

Oh fuck. Oh shit. He’d be furious with me.

With his old-fashioned values, this was akin to cheating.

I had fucking cheated on Steve without realizing it.

I didn’t sleep, but cried in bed with Lourdes Marie.

Barry had been grooming me all this time, since February.

My insistence that I didn’t fuck married men and I already had a boyfriend with him had been a challenge. No was a matter of negotiation with him.

I heaved a few times, but there was nothing on my stomach but bile to spit up.

The worst part was how this would make Steve feel. He’d be so angry with me. How stupid had I been to not tell Barry to go fuck off, I wasn’t taking a massage from another man. How had I not seen what he was doing all along? Barry was trying to tear down my defenses so I’d sleep with him. His wife had shown up to the diner a few times, and he had introduced me to her. He had even said they were in an open relationship, which I hadn’t realized he had been targeting me.

I certainly couldn’t keep this from Steve, he’d be so hurt.

Why had I gone along with Barry’s suggestions? He had distracted me so much with all those questions, I hadn’t been able to think about it.

Oh God, he had groomed me and manipulated me. 

I was training to be a therapist, but I had just made a stupid, stupid mistake.

I felt like trash, like when Steve and I had had that fight about him being bi back during my ectopic pregnancy.

“Stupid, stupid,” I cursed myself in the mirror. “You’re a slut.”

What had I done? Would Steve ever forgive me for this?

When my alarm went off, I had to be back at work to open with Ron. Hands shaking, I called him.

“Hey, I was just about to get on the Metro,” Ron said, answering his phone. “What’s up?”

“Ron, I can’t come into work today,” I whispered.

“Is everything okay?”

“No,” I admitted. 

“What happened? Are you sick?”

“I just can’t come in,” I admitted. “I’m sorry.”

Who’d believe me anyway? I had laid down on the couch willingly. There hadn’t been a struggle. The guilt was overwhelming. It crushed me.

All I could think about was Barry’s icky hands touching my bare skin and if I should keep this from Steve. 

The guilt was making me sick, the anticipation of Steve’s reaction was terrifying in my own mind. Would he forgive me? Would he blame me for what happened? How would he ever touch me again without thinking about Barry’s disgusting paws all over me, like the slut I was? Barry hadn’t broken any laws. He hadn’t raped me or touched me in inappropriate areas without my permission. I had fucking given him permission and agreed. I’d get laughed out of a police station if I went and reported him. And I had showered, too. All the evidence of the Biofreeze had had rubbed into my skin was gone, now.

I picked up my phone, getting up Steve’s profile in my contacts.

I couldn’t call him, not yet.

I wanted to call Alissa, but she was probably sleeping right now. I sent her a text, asking if she was up and if she could call me, but it went unanswered. Most of my friends were asleep right now, anyway. 

I pulled in Natasha’s number and thought on it. Would she have any sympathy for me? She had told me once that she’d make sure I was sorry if I ever hurt Steve.

The last person I thought of was Pepper.

I sent her a text to see if she was up and could call me. It opened, she read it, and her number rang through on my line.

“Hey, Dani, is everything okay?”

“I didn’t wake you did I?” I asked.

“Have you been crying?”

“Yeah,” I admitted, choking on the lump in my throat. "I didn't mean to wake you up-"

"Don't worry about that-"

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called you!"

"No, whatever's happened-"

"I'm bothering you and this is completely inappropriate with me considering the Stark Foundation-"

"Professionalism aside, we're just friends right now. Whatever's going on, if you hang up with me, I'll get in Tony's Iron Man sit and fly down to DC to find you and pump the story out of you right now, so tell me what happened, okay? We're friends. Not boss and employee. You can't be okay if you're this upset and calling me in the middle of the night."

I gulped and took a deep breath. The story poured out and I languished over how Steve would be hurt by how stupid I had been. “Listen, Danielle,” Pepper said sharply. “You’re not stupid. You were manipulated. This guy sounds like a major asshole and creep and you’re a little too nice because you’re Southern and classy enough to not make him feel that. But he was trying to seduce you. I know a player when I see one. Hell, I know a player when I hear about one from my friends.”

“But, I _knew_ better, though!” I blubbered.

“We’re women, women are told to be accommodating with pushy men, men who don’t take no for a final answer, because we know that if we say no outright, they can hurt us pretty badly, if given the chance. I saw this stuff all the time when I was an RA at Cornell,” she sighed. “Honey, I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

“All I can think about is how Steve would feel if I told him.”

“Have you called him, yet?”

“No.”

“You need to. Tell him. Tell him, now. If you tell him now, he won’t be able to say that you kept a secret from him. You don’t keep secrets from him, do you?”

“No, not since he told me he was Captain America. We agreed, no secrets.”

“Listen to me: hang up the phone, wake him up, and tell him the whole story. This Barry asshole had you over a barrel, you really didn’t have a choice but to do as he said, all alone in that restaurant. If you tell Steve that, he’s not going to blame you.”

“Natasha showed me some self-defense moves last fall,” I lamented. “I should have defended myself.”

“That wasn’t appropriate to use in this situation,” Pepper reminded me. “Natasha’s trained since she was a little girl to fight. I’ve seen her take down four men at once with her arms tied behind her back. One night of self-defense training isn’t going to make that much of a difference for a normal woman. You were defenseless. I'm not going to victim-blame you here.”

I snorted, in the least lady-like manner possible. “I’m sorry, that was gross.”

“It’s okay. If were in DC right now, I’d be opening a bottle of wine and handing you tissues.”

“At six-thirty in the morning?”

“At any time in the morning. Now, go call Steve. And I’ll be here if it doesn’t go well. You can call me back.”  
We hung up and I pulled up Steve’s profile in my contacts. I squeezed my eyes shut. Would he be furious with me? What would happen?

I gathered up my guts and hit the dial button.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write this because I was sexually assaulted this way by someone who I thought was a friend. He often made sexual comments towards me, and I brushed it off that I was being too much of a prude and falling back on my own demisexuality, normal guys treated their female friends this way, this was how some friends talked to each other. This guy helped me with some heavy lifting at my apartment and then scared me into him demanding to give me a massage, since we were all alone in my apartment and he was bigger than me and could overpower me. I tried to resist it, but he wouldn't take no for an answer. The day after, I felt so disgusting and dirty. And stupid. He had propositioned me for sex several times before that and had done so in a way where I felt ashamed and like a prude for turning him down. Then, I found out that this "friend" had never held a license as a massage therapist, just liked giving massages to the girls he was sexually pursuing outside his marriage (and his wife was fine with him pursuing other women, which creeped me the hell out, too. You'd think polyamorous men would value consent more, and I have yet to meet one that actually does care more about consent than a monogamous man, and sorry for that broad brush I'm painting with here, I'm sure y'all are out there). I realized he had been taking my "no" as "convince me". My "no" was definite: I am not in the practice of fucking married men and I wasn't attacted to him, either. I had to explain it to the guy I was actually dating at the time (we were only dating, we hadn't had sex yet, but had agreed to be monogamously date for more seriousness) and he took it as I had allowed this to happen, that I had wanted it and was now regretting it, I had chosen to cheat and this guy was innocent, my boyfriend called me stupid and a slut and told me that I should have known better, why did I let this 'friend' give me a massage and take my clothes off if I hadn't wanted it? I felt even dumber, even more stupid. I realize now it was victim blaming and gaslighting. Sexual assault isn't always what we see in movies with a man chasing a virginal girl down a dark alley and her screaming for him to stop. It's when a person's boundaries are being ignored, when "no" becomes an invitation to negotiation, and it's not taken as a "stop here" but they keep going, that's an assault. 
> 
> I just want to offer my love and support to anybody, male, female, or gender nonbinary, who has been violated sexually (whether it was a violation of boundaries or an actual rape) and tell them; it's not your fault. I'll be your Pepper Potts. The people who do this are master manipulators and will use every trick in the book to get you to do something to gratify them sexually. You can tell them to go fuck themselves and that you never want to see them ever again as long as you live, and you are well within your rights. Hell, I will cheer you on, regardless of if you ever forgive them or not. Forgiveness isn't about liking what happened, but letting go of it and letting karma take care of it. And I hope this guy gets arrested for rape and sentenced to prison time, so that the prison system can take care of this. And you aren't stupid or a slut (being a slut isn't a bad thing, unless you are having sex to hurt other people) and you deserve support. It's not fair when these kinds of things happen and I want to eradicate the kind of toxic sexuality that goes around in this world where sex with particular people in a conquest, not an act of care and bonding and trust. What happened to me was an attempt to manipulate and humiliate me. And if I saw this guy in the streets, I'd love to kick him in the balls and call him a cunt to his face after spitting on him, even if I get arrested for assault for doing so, it would absolutely be worth it. I am so thankful for my therapist and Pepper Potts kind of friends who helped me process this, and I am thankful it wasn't a full rape, because we all know how the punishment of THAT goes in this country... sigh. This has been theraputic for me to write this. I can let it down a little more, now.
> 
> As for the sex between Dani and Steve in this chapter, it was consensual sex between two old lovers and monogamous. If Dani had declined, he'd have stopped what he was doing and apologized, because my Steve/Captain America is a good guy who listens to the people he has sex with and values their consent. I wish all guys (and women, too) were like that. Sex is only sex with consent. Without consent, it is rape.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for putting up with my stupid-long author note in the last chapter. Did not want to leave y'all with a cliffie for too long.
> 
> This chapter's TW: dominant sex, spanking, anal play

“Are you still there?” I asked, dead silence on the other end of the line, dabbing at my tears with toilet paper, having long since run out of Kleenex.

There was a long pause, and I heard some scuffling in the background. “I’ve killed men before, but always in battle. Never in cold blood. Today just might be the day I do it,” Steve said in a steely tone I had never heard before. “I’m coming to DC.”   
“You’re on call!”

“Screw that,” he growled. “I’ll kill him.”

I gasped. “Steve, no!” I cried.

The line went dead. I dialed him back, my hands shaking, but it went to voicemail. I dialed again. He was ignoring me.

In a panic, I called Pepper back.

“How did it go?”

“He said he’s leaving New York to come to DC, and I brought up that he’s still on call, but he said, ‘Screw that’ and the line went dead and I can’t reach him!” I said in one breath. “Oh God, Pepper, what if- what if he’s already on the road?”

“Just a second- I’ll be right back.”

The line went silent, but call kept going. I wondered if she was calling Tony or if she had put me on mute. What if Steve had left his phone at home and couldn’t be tracked? 

A moment later, Pepper returned on the line. “Stay calm, we’re going to try to head him off before he leaves the city. I’ll call you back in a moment.”

“Okay. Bye.”

I waited in anticipation, terrified that they wouldn’t be able to stop him. He was a master strategist, and knew New York like the back of his hand. If he killed Barry in a rage, he’d be held on murder charges. This was not a security issue or a war zone. I would be responsible for the loss of a life. Steve was black and while thinking again, I knew it. Maybe he was furious with me, too. I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t reach him.

Out of nerves, I called Pepper back after a half hour of pacing.

“I can’t take this!” I sobbed. “What’s going on?”

“Tony suited up and is out flying around the city, trying to spot him.”

“Has he found him?”

“Not yet. But Tony’s got his gps on. Steve’s phones are turned off, though, but don’t panic. He’s seeing red right now, the ride down over three or four hours might getting him thinking a little more clearly before he does anything stupid if we can’t stop him. If he’s on his bike, he doesn’t have anything but his own thoughts to listen to. Four hours is a lot of time.”

“I’m gonna be sick.”

“Eat some carbs, it’ll calm your stomach down. I’m watching what Tony’s doing right now. It’s gonna be okay.”

We stayed on the phone for a few more minutes, and I made some toast while Pepper was watching the gps and watching the news in the background. “Traffic’s really dead for a Saturday morning in Manhattan,” she said softly. “The most we can do is watch I-95 South. I don’t think we’re going to find him without his phone powered down.”

I sighed, shakily, dabbing at my eyes. “Maybe he’ll come here first to ask me where he is and I can reason with him.”

“I hope so. I’ve got to go, my mom’s called twice while I was on the phone with you, do you mind if I call her back?”

“I’m sorry I kept you on the phone all morning,” I lamented. 

“Don’t be sorry. Call me back if you need more moral support.”

“I will.”

“Just keep reminding yourself, this is not your fault, okay? You were a victim here and there is nothing you could have done to stop this perv from groping you.”

I felt completely incompetent right now. 

I couldn’t  _ do _ anything until we found Steve. Another “perk” of having a superhero boyfriend.

The next two hours were torture. I had bothered Pepper enough, too. I grabbed my running shoes and shorts and ran a few blocks just to get all this nervous energy out. Whenever I heard a motorcycle, I panicked and ran like a mad woman, but stayed close to my block. I wasn’t sure if I needed to go back to the diner in case Steve showed up there. I turned the corner to run back to my apartment building, and right as I got there, I heard a motorcycle roaring down the block, and turned to see a stone-faced Steve, wearing sunglasses, pulling into the parking lot. I tried to scream his name, but wheezed instead. He saw me, but I could see the rage behind his eyes when he took his sunglasses off.

“What were you thinking?” I wheezed. “I couldn’t call you, I couldn’t contact you— Pepper sent Tony out to find you-“

“I got to Jersey before I realized I didn’t know where this bastard lived,” he said, kicking down the kickstand to his bike. “Let me see you.”

I sniffled and wiped my eyes under my sunglasses. He took my sunglasses off my face. 

“He didn’t hurt you?”

I shook my head, still heaving. “I’ve been so worried!”

“Come on, let’s go inside,” he said, taking my hand.

In my apartment, I sat down on the bed and wept. “I feel so disgusting,” I admitted, rubbing my face. “I’m so sorry, Steve, I’m so sorry.”

He suddenly ripped the AC unit out of the wall and crushed it between his hands, like an accordion. I jumped a mile. “That’s what I think of that piece garbage human being. If I find him-“

“No judge in the world is going to excuse you hurting him. It’s not worth it.”

“You’re worth it,” Steve said.

“Please promise me that you won’t hurt him. You could kill him!”

“I  _ want _ to kill him- him touching you and taking your clothes off without permission-“ he looked so angry, I thought he’d yank his own hair out.

“Stop!” I cried.

“Aren’t you angry?”

“Yes, I am. But technically, he didn’t break the law.”

“I want to break his face.”

“I’m the one that fees dirty,” I mumbled. I still felt my skin crawling, memories of Barry’s Biofreeze covered hands rubbing my body invading my head.

“Why did you let him do it?” Steve asked, and it was a kick to the gut.

“I didn’t have a choice!” I cried, hurt and horrified. 

Steve looked perturbed at that. “You said he had you lay down on the couch-“

“Where was I supposed to go?” I asked. “Hes so much bigger than me-- so much bigger than me-- and we were all alone in that restaurant! I kept on telling myself that he didn’t have intentions towards me- and he kept on asking me questions and distracting me- and- I was supposed to lock up, what was I going to tell Ron if I ran out with the key? I’d lose my job!”

Steve looked so angry with everything. I could almost hear him grinding his teeth. “I’ve always said you don’t need that job.”

“That’s my income!” I shouted. “I can’t make ends meet-“

“You’re taking the internship in New York and moving in with me. We’re not discussing it any further.”

I wanted to tell him no, I would do no such thing and he couldn’t command me, but getting the hell out of DC seemed like our best option right now. My guilt got the best of me. I didn’t say anything. My phone chimed, and it was Pepper.

_ Have you heard anything? _

“It’s Pepper,” I said. “I need to call her back.”

“Fine,” Steve said, sitting down at the desk.

I hit the call back button. “He’s here,” I said when she picked up. “He hasn’t gone out looking for Barry.”

“Thank God. Tony’s not above going into a diner to beat the hell out of a handsy slob. He’d join a fight for a good cause.”

My call waiting beeped, and I saw it was Ron. “Well, I’d appreciate it. My boss is calling on my other line.”

“Okay, keep me updated.”   


“I will.”

I switched over lines.

“Hey, Ron?”

“Hey, Dani, what’s going on?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Whatever it is, we need you. Brittany didn’t show up, and we’re struggling to get everybody served.”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll pay you shift manager wages and you can keep all your tips.”

I grimaced. “Did Barry show up?”

Ron’s end of the line went silent. I could hear the diner in the background. “What happened?”   


“Oh God, Ron,” I whispered, fresh tears running down my cheeks. “He didn’t…  _ force _ himself on me, but he had me cornered and…”

“Dani… No!” he responded in horror.

“Where is he?”

“He’s in the kitchen. He’s fired right now.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to come back after this… Ron, when you hired him, did he mention being a licensed massage therapist? Like trade school?”

“It wasn’t on his education.”

I felt like even more of a fool. Barry just liked feeling girls up. I had been so gullible. I had tried to be fair and I had assumed he would be a stand-up guy and honor how I felt. I had assumed we were friends because he kept on saying it. 

“Are you okay?”

“No,” I admitted. “I took him at his word and… He basically demanded to give me a massage in the break room and I wasn’t going to run out of the restaurant, locking him inside. I’d look awful stupid in the morning, wouldn’t I?”

“I’ve got the security footage of the break room. I’ll call you back in a minute, I gotta fire a son of a bitch.”

The line went dead.

I laid in down in the bed and rubbed my eye sockets. My apartment was starting to heat up without the AC.

“I don’t want to stay here. I’m calling Alissa.”

“No, we can get a hotel room,” Steve said. “He knows where you live. You don’t want me confronting him, we can’t be here. You’re right; I probably will kill him if I ever lay eyes on him. Come on, let’s pack a bag.”

* * *

Steve and I packed up Lourdes Marie and our things and we took an Uber to the hotel across the street from Alissa and Joel’s apartment building in Crystal City and checked in.

I laid in the bed and Lourdes Marie explored before climbing up into the bed with me to snuggle while Steve went to the gym to work out.

I fantasized about Steve knocking Barry’s teeth out. I felt disgusting and angry at the same time. I kept on beating myself up. How had I been so stupid? I knew Barry liked me. He hadn’t made it a secret, he had offered to fuck me. Why was I so dumb about it?

I went over last night over and over in mind and what I could have done differently until I fell asleep out of exhaustion.

What woke me was someone getting into the bed with me.

“Hey,” Steve said softly.

I rolled over to face him.

“I kept on thinking about it during my workout. Everything you’ve told me about this guy… you’re too nice sometimes. Sometimes, you gotta tell people off, Dani,” he said softly, stroking my hair out of my face. “You underestimate how pretty you are. It’s like you don’t even know.”

“I’m not pretty right now,” I mumbled.

“Nobody is after they’ve been crying for twelve hours. Except to me. I’m surprised this doesn’t happen all the time.”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t feel pretty. I worked at being pretty, with make-up and exercise and diet. I realized I was super-hungry, too. I hadn’t eaten since yesterday.

“I’m sorry I made a demand of you earlier. We don’t have to move in together right away, although it would make me feel like I could protect you better. And we don’t have to move to New York just because of this… What do you want?”

“I want…” I didn’t trust myself right now. Did I want New York or did I want DC? Did I want to live with Steve or did I want to continue to do this part-time living together thing? “I want to eat.”

He looked surprised. “What?”

“I haven’t eaten since before last night’s shift, and I’m starving,” I admitted.

“I’m hungry, too. Let’s order out.”

“There’s a We the Pizza down the street,” I suggested. “But I don’t want to leave this room.”

“I don’t want to leave, either,” he admitted. “I can’t express how angry I was at this guy when you called me and told me what happened.”

“I’m mad too: mostly at myself,” I admitted. “God, I feel so stupid. Why did I fall for it? I honestly thought he was my friend and wouldn’t cross that line.”

“You’re not stupid, Dani. You’ve got more education that I do. You just trusted him at his word.”

“So what? I’m not street-smart like you.”

“I got street smart when I was in the Hoovertowns. You kind of have to in that situation. Oh, Danielle. You are so beautiful, I sometimes worry that some other guy is gonna snap you up when I’m not around. That’s why I said you were moving to New York and that was it.”

I closed my eyes, trying to avoid the tears.

“I was out of my mind when I got on my bike to come down here. You’ve shown so much to me, that you’re more than just a beautiful dame. I get so insecure, I start feeling like that shrimp again, like I don’t deserve to be with someone like you.”

“You don’t have to flatter me right now,” I said.

“I’m not trying to flatter you. I swear,” he said. “I am so angry and jealous at this guy for trying to take you from me right now. A part of me is so scared he could actually do it, still.”

“Steve…” I whispered. “You are everything to me. Nobody could ever be what you are to me. I love you and only you. I’m afraid sometimes that a better woman will come along and steal you away.”

“I would never let that happen, Danielle.” I felt his hands on my waist, under my t-shirt, gripping my body, sending chills down my spine. “I will never cheat on you. Until you give up on me.”

“I’ll never do that.”

He kissed me, hungrily, savagely. I kissed him back, his tongue brushing mine. 

“I’m yours,” I whispered between kisses. His hands roamed up my breasts, under my shirt, groping as if he wanted to eat me alive. My breasts tingled in response as he squeezed them and pinched my nipples. Soft squeaks came from the back of my throat as he claimed my mouth. “How do you want me?” I asked.

“On your knees,” he commanded. His commands send a shockwave of ecstasy down between my legs, making me wet. “Not wearing a stitch. Begging for it.” He caught my lower lip between his and I whimpered.

“Yes. Want you,” I whispered.

“Take your clothes off,” he repeated. “Before I tear them off you.”

“Anything you want,” I said, getting up on my knees, drawing my top up over my head, tossing it to the floor. Steve watched me, sticking his hand down into his pants to draw is his cock out. I cupped my own breast, gasping in excitement, rubbing my own nipple, cupping my breast. “Is this how you want me?”

“I already told you. Not a stitch. On all fours.”

I was suddenly so turned on I couldn’t hardly breathe. I struggled out of my pajama bottoms and panties, and tossed them on the floor next to bed. “Is this better?” I asked, getting onto my knees, balancing on my elbows, my ass in the air.

Steve sat up, chewing on his lower lip and getting up to position himself behind me. “You look so hot at this angle,” he said, running a hand over my lower back. I arched for him and he groaned. His hand cupped my butt cheek and I shivered at the touch. He rubbed a hand over my ass. I was so turned on, I groaned aloud and reached for my own clit. I stroked it, and I heard his breathing becoming laboured, too.

“Danielle…”

“Spank me,” I said softly.

“Like this?” His hand softly patted my ass.

“Harder.”

He hit me just a but harder, and it echoed in the room. It didn’t sting, though. 

“ _ Harder _ , Steven! I want your handprint on my ass!”

“Aw, God, Dani…” A sting hit my cheek and I buried my face in the sheets, crying out. 

“Yes!”

He slapped my butt again. I loved it and it sent tingles of excited energy to my entrance.

“More!” I begged.

He alternated ass cheeks and I arched a little more, crying out. 

He stopped spanking me, and his fingers slit down the small of my back, into my valley, and I shivered, almost unable to take it. His fingers traced down to my back door, and he pressed his thumb against it. I whimpered, mewling like a kitten, and the pressure intensified. I offered my ass to him, but I felt him at my entrance instead, positioned.

“Take me,” I begged.

“Do you need it?”

“Yes. Fuck, yes.”

“That’s my dirty girl.”

I cried out as his cock entered me, his thumb still position on my back entrance, pressing just enough. I met him, thrust for thrust, and I tried to see him over my shoulder. He was behind me, his head thrown back, eyes closed, holding my hips in place, his lips parted, panting. Oh, God, I loved it when he lost himself inside me like that.

“Take it,” he commanded.

At that moment, I felt my back entrance opening up.

_ Oh shit, that’s what it feels like. _

His thumb slid inside my asshole, and I wished I had lube. It burned slightly, but felt amazing. I did all I could to offer my ass to him, and humped his hand and cock, feeling the frenzy inside me. 

“You feel so good.”

“Keep fucking me like this,” I begged. “Oh Steve! Steven!”

“Come for me.”

“What?   
“Come now.”

His free hand smacked the side of my ass. I cried out and humped him harder. 

“Slow down.”

I slowed my movements, and it sent aching tension through my whole body. “Augh!” I cried out. He pushed further into me, and pulled back slowly.

I came, like a complete slut. 

I was his slut, and I loved it. I’d do every dirty, deprave act, with his thumb up my asshole, that he wanted. 

He pulled out suddenly, and I heard him fapping his cock along.

“Baby?” I asked.

He groaned a few times in a row, and I glanced at him over my shoulder. He was jerking himself off, with my arousal as his lube. He came all over my ass, his hot load coating my cheeks, dripping, crying out softly.

“Dani,” he whispered. “Oh Dani… that was incredible.”

He moved out from behind me, but I was afraid to move, for the load on my ass dripping everywhere. He grabbed the tissue box and mopped it up off me.

I laid there, coming down from the high. 

“What is too much?”

I thought about that question. 

Him controlling me, that was incredible. All I had to do was give in to him and the orgasms almost knocked me out. “No, not at all. I loved it.”

His hand stroked my ass cheek again, and patted it.

“Danielle…I’m yours, aren’t I?”

“As long as I’m yours, too.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience! I ended up really bogged down with school, but I'm on a break now, so I can write more! I want to send love out to everybody still following this story, I love you for reading! XOXO!

I didn’t bother putting clothes back on that night while Steve went to take a shower. The pizza arrived and I laid down with him and devoured a few slices. He ate the rest of it.

Barry left my fucking mind.

We watched a movie on AMC before fucking again. My ass burned a little, but it hurt in a good way. I felt powerful, again.

That was what Barry took from me: my power. Women could only have power sexually if their consent was honored and taken seriously by their partners. Barry was working on bypassing that consent. I was so thankful for Steve, suddenly. He always valued me and gave me power. He never tried to take it from me.

I took a bath to relax and clean off and came back to bed

Steve was relaxed too, finally, took a shower while I laid in the tub and soaked for a few minutes. This was the closest I had ever seen him to drunk as I joined him in the bed later.  


“I was too rough with you,” Steve said, tangling his fingers through my hair as I laid in the crook of his arm. “You’re getting a bruise.”

“I’m…” I struggled. “I’m not ashamed I liked that. And that I asked for it.” It felt so good, the stinging and then the endorphins. It was almost like a drug. This was surprisingly effective reminder that I got pleasure from pain, sometimes. I had always suspected this about myself, and been ashamed of it. “But not every time. It was intense.”

“It was,” he agreed. “I always swore I’d never hurt you.”

“You didn’t… well, you did, but in a way I liked. I want to do it again sometime.”

 

* * *

I went back to the diner the next morning to work a shift. The other servers and the cooks shut up when I walked into the kitchen and stared at me. I went to work with rolling silverware.

Nobody really spoke to me, but Ron called me into his office and it felt like being sent to the principal in school.

“Close the door behind you.”

I did as he said, feeling like I was going to throw up.

“Look, you know why I called you in here.”

“I do,” I agreed, grimacing. 

“Barry didn’t show up at your place last night?”   
“I don’t know, I didn’t stay there last night.”

“I’m surprised your boyfriend didn’t come here and kill him.”

I shrugged. “I held him off. Yesterday was awful. I take it the rumor mill is in full force with the rest of the staff.”

“Yeah, it is,” Ron said. I could hear the sadness and apprehension in his voice. “About that… Dani, I can’t keep you as a shift manager with all these rumors going on.”

I bit my lip to fight back the lump in my throat. I certainly didn’t want to relive that experience. I couldn’t make an announcement, I certainly didn’t want to. What would I have said, anyway? I couldn’t stop the rest of the staff from talking. There was no way for them to respect me when it was going around that I fooled around with Barry in the break room. Who’d take orders from a slut who fucked her own employees? That was the way it looked. That was what all the whispers were about and the guilty silences. Barry sexually assaulted me, and I was paying the price.

“Look, I’m sorry, Dani. But I’m not going to take away your livelihood,” Ron continued. I could tell this was hard for him, too. He wasn’t going to let me go or fire me.

But what other option did I have? I tried to speak, but the lump in my throat got the better of me, and the tears started to fall. “I guess I’ll do you one better,” I said, tears cutting down my cheek. “I’ll quit. Immediately.”

Ron looked like he was about to cry, too. “You know I think the world of you, Dani. I’ll write you a recommendation letter, I’ll be a job reference. There are other restaurants that would be lucky to have you, I know the managers at some of the best restaurants in DC, they always need talented staff.”

“Thanks, Ron,” I said. He sorted through the desk and found a packet of tissues and handed me one. 

“Let me do your off boarding paperwork and information,” he said. “You’ve got my number and email. I’ll write that letter today.”   
I nodded, unable to speak any further.

After signing some documents and changing out of my server uniform, I emptied my locker and started off back to Crystal City, where we were staying in the hotel. I sent Steve a text message.

_ I basically had no other choice but to quit my job. _

_ What happened? _

I wiped my eyes on the neckline of my t-shirt as I wait for the train.  _ Apparently, Barry was bragging to the cooks yesterday before Ron gave him the ax. The whole staff thinks I used my position as shift manager to fool around with Barry after work on Friday, then get him in trouble, and that’s why Ron fired him. Ron didn’t fire me, but told me that there was no way I’d be able to shift manage people that didn’t respect me, but was giving me the option to stay on as a server. I was the one assaulted, and now I’m getting screwed. _

_ You can do something better. And with your internship coming up, it’ll be easier. Maybe you won’t even need to work. I told you I’d take care of you.  _

I bristled at that. 

There was no way I’d be the helpless female, unable to support myself, dependent on a man.

But here I was, unemployed, recently assaulted, and helpless asides from Steve.  _ I’ll find another job. I’m not going to spend my days just studying and going to school. _

_ You work so much, I don’t know how you do it, so this might be a blessing in disguise.  _ Steve responded.

_ I need my own money. _

_ I’ll give you whatever you need. We’re getting married, aren’t we? _

I wrote a response, then erased it, then another, then another, until I realized it was a simple one. I wrote it down.  _ That’s not gonna work for me. I’m coming back to the hotel, I’ll see you there. We’ll talk. _

Back at the hotel, I walked in, to find Steve waiting. He had this bags packed to go back to New York to finish out his on-call time.

“I’m going to ask this, and I don’t understand why: why can’t I just support you, Danielle?” Steve greeted me.

“Because… because bad things happen when women give up their ability to support themselves,” I said. “Even if it’s just until I finish school.”

“We’ve established that I’d never hurt you!” he cried. “I’m… I’m so- how can you-”

“I just want to be autonomous. Do you understand what it means to me to have a job?”

“It’s hard to get it,” he admitted. “There’s a part of me that thinks you’re being ridiculous, but… Dani, you work so much! You don’t even like waitressing!”

“You work a lot, too!” I cried.

“I love my job, though. You whine so much about rude customers to me and… all that you’ve been though. Why? Why do you want to return to it?”

“Steve, I don’t whine!” I cried, although deep down, I knew that wasn’t true. This was just logic, but something inside me couldn’t do it. “I can’t just trust you’ll always be able to support us.” 

“I can’t make you trust me on this.”

“I know,” I admitted, flopping down on the bed beside him, cradling my head in my hands. “I’m sorry. It’s just me.”

“I don’t know what to do about it,” he admitted.

“I wanna see Riley.”

 

* * *

After spending the day in the hotel room alone with Lourdes Marie, I realized I was more scared of becoming my mother, that’s why I didn’t want to be without a job and my own money. Even realizing this didn’t make a difference. I still wanted to have a job of my own where I could support myself, even if Steve was my fiance.

Alissa invited me over for dinner, and I took the invitation. It was nice to spend the evening with her, since Joel was at the hospital working. I unloaded on her what had happened at the diner and how I was no longer working there, and Steve telling me not to worry about a job because we were moving together soon anyway and how it got under my skin.

“He means well,” she said. “You know I don’t work, right?”

“It’s different for us. We’re not married yet,” I said.

“You know this all comes down to trusting him,” she said. “You think he’s really not going to move to DC if you choose the Children’s Hospital? Think about it.”

I did. Deep down, in my heart of hearts, I just didn’t want to trust him because I feared he’d leave me one day if I asked too much of him.

I called Steve that night as I got back to the hotel room, even though he was on call until tomorrow morning at eight. “Hey,” I said. “Look, I’m sorry about the whole job thing. I’m just really beaten down right now and I don’t want you to have more power over me.”

“Do you really think I’d use it to manipulate you?”

“No,” I admitted. “You’re a good man. Better than that. It’s just… baggage.”

“Baggage?”

“We all have it,” I admitted. 

“Explain.”

“It’s when things from the past affect your current relationship. Like Chad encouraging me to shave everything because he hated body hair on women and said it smelled gross. Or that I have to live up to Peggy Carter, who was the original bad ass and I’m not nearly as tough as her.”

“What makes you think you’ve got to be her?”

“I dunno.”

“You wanted to see Riley. I’ll email you my days off for the next two weeks and we can make a date for seeing her.”

“Sounds fair. I love you.”

“More than yesterday?”

“And I’ll love you more tomorrow.”

He sighed, and segueyed away from the subject. “You’ve got to make up your mind about the internship and practicum,” he pointed out.

He was right.

“I’ll call you in the morning,” I said.

I sat down that night and really considered the best practicum site. And that I needed to trust Steve would be there for me as my equal, my partner, and my best friend. I made my decision and drafted emails.

In the morning, I went to Starbucks to get some homework done and to get some breakfast, and I called Steve.

“I’ve decided,” I said. “I know where I want to spend the next year.”

“Okay?”

“The DC Children’s Hospital. Are you going to be okay moving down here and commuting?”

“I’ll make it work,” he said. “You’ve got my full support.”

“Now, we both have to give our notice and start looking for a new place to live.”

“I’m on it,” he said. “You start looking for a new apartment.”

“Monthly rent?”

“What?”

“What’s our budget?”

“S.H.I.E.L.D. gives me a housing allowance depending on the city I’m in.”

“What is it now?”

“My apartment? I get about two thousand a month, if you find something about that price, I can make up the difference, like up to twenty-five hundred. Deal?”

“What?” I almost did a spit-take with my coffee. I could find a decent one-bedroom apartment here in DC for that amount.

“Let me find out what they’d give us, I’ll let you know,” he said. “See? It’s all working out. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

I had a new task ahead of me to focus on.

 

* * *

 

“So, what do you think?” I asked Steve as we walked around the model apartment in the Sheldon Apartment Towers. It was a building built in the 70s, with the original parket wood floors, a gas log fireplace, and chandeliers, but most of it was updated and remodeled. The kitchen had a dishwasher and garbage disposal, it was set up for internet connection, too, and it was on the 4th floor. The building would have been out of our budget, but there was a huge construction project outside our window in our view, and the landlords were giving a substantial discount for that on this wing.

“It’s in our budget?”

“Yes. And it’s close to a Metro stop, it’s only two blocks from Alissa’s, and it’s got this!” I cried, opening the door in the little kitchen, revealing a washer-dryer stacked atop each other. I was in love. “We wouldn’t have to drag our laundry downstairs!”

Steve’s expression softened. “You really want to live here?”

“Do you?”

“I want whatever makes you happy. Does this apartment make you happy?”

“It does.”

“If it does, then we’ll take it.”

We went out for some beers at the Sauf Haus that night and I got buzzed off one. “Do we really want to go out?” I asked. “Since I have no job and I’m going to be living off you?”

“Money’s not a problem, Sasquatch. I told you. I put in the application for the apartment, and S.H.I.E.L.D.’s already approved it, and they said we had it this afternoon when I called to check back at the management office.”

“You’ve never told me how much you make and we’ve got to set a budget down.”

“Can we discuss it tomorrow and just celebrate our new place tonight?” he asked, perturbed at my financial concerns. “I told you, I can support us, even if you don’t work.”

“Steve, I need to get another job,” I sighed. “It’s on my mind-”

“We’ll talk to Riley about it, let’s just put it on the backburner and not talk about it until then.”

“But I don’t want you dipping into the Monaco money!” I cried.

“I don’t have to,” he answered. “I told you, I can afford DC for us. I’ve already been looking up prices-- and it’s not a big deal. I told you, I have the money to marry you, now, and I’m going to make you happy. Isn’t that Alissa and Kamika coming in the door?”

I turned around to see Alissa coming in the door with Kamika and her boyfriend Ardell. I waved at them and they hurried over to me, while Ardell went to the bar to order. “Congratulations on the new place!” Kamika cried, hugging and kissing me. “I can’t wait to see it!”

“Me too!” Alissa cried. “Joel sends his congratulations as well, but he’s working tonight. Steve, I can’t believe you’re leaving your hometown to start over in DC with Dani!”

“It’s just a year,” Steve shrugged. “I can do anything for a year as long as Dani’s with me.”

“Aww,” Kamika and Alissa chorused. I blushed.

“I used to be against living together before marriage, but this is going to be a good experience for us,” Steve said. “We’ll get to know each other. Can somebody tell Ardell the first round’s on me?”

“You know, Joel and I moved in together for a year before he proposed,” Alissa said. “I don’t know that I would have accepted his proposal had we not lived together.”

“It’s a good idea to get used to each other before committing to forever,” Kamika added.

We celebrated with my friends and went out to the rooftop to enjoy the beautiful summer night. I tried to push the creeping anxiety of Steve’s assumption he could fully support me out of my mind while we enjoyed ourselves. Steve was right: we needed to not think about finances until tomorrow. I didn’t want to be the party pooper.

 

* * *

 

We went down to Starbucks the next morning to get breakfast before going to see Riley. It felt shitty for Steve to lay down his card and I knew I was going to have to ask for an allowance from him from here on out like when I was in high school, asking for it from my dad. Ugh, that just made my skin crawl, although I knew he’d hand it over in a heartbeat.

At Riley’s office, we had our sous vide egg white bites and sipped our coffees.

“What’s the matter?” Steve asked.

“We’ll talk about it in session.”

Riley came in to have us come in.

“I’m sensing some tension between the two of you today,” Riley said as we sat down on the couch.

“A lot’s happened,” Steve agreed. “Dani and I decided I’d move down here after the whole Barry thing.”

“I did see Dani and we processed what happened with Barry,” Riley agreed. “And she did tell me that you and she were moving in together after she lost her job.”

“I know we’ve got to talk about money,” I said, cringing.

He groaned in the seat next to me on the couch.

“I’m not being difficult, but do you know how hard it’s going to be for me to have to ask you for money all the time?” I asked. He rolled his eyes a little. “Do you know how infantilizing that is? To have to ask for an allowance?”

“Now, Steve, let’s listen to what Dani is saying. She said it feels like it’s infantilizing, like you’re making her feel young and dependent for having to ask you for money to survive.”

“Where I come from, good husbands support their wives. The wives don’t have to work,” Steve said. “And I have around seven hundred thousand in the bank, I can take care of her-”

“I don’t need taking care of!” I cried. “I just want to be your equal, your partner. And, being on an allowance-”

“We don’t have to call it that!”

“Being on an allowance makes me feel like I did when I was in jr high and couldn’t do anything without an adult. I’m not going into marriage to be a child again.”

“You won’t be! Dani, it’s just money! I’ll make the money, and you can tend to the house and go to school-”

“No!” I shrieked. “No, I don’t want a life like that! I don’t want you just coming home and sitting around while I’m stuck cooking and cleaning-”

“I didn’t say I was going to do that!” Steve cried, offended. 

“You don’t know how many case studies I’ve come across where the man in the family earns all the money and says, ‘I made the money and provide a nice house, it’s your job to cook and clean’ and that’s it!” I cried.

“Well, a lot of my couples in couples therapy come in saying that exactly,” Riley said.

“The two of you are ganging up on me?” Steve asked, horribly offended.

I groaned, burying my face in my hands.

“No, we’re not. What I’m hearing is Dani is afraid of this happening because she loves you so much and wants to believe that you’ll be the man of her dreams, but wants to make sure things like this situation never happen. She’s saying she’s afraid it will if she isn’t bring money into the household,” Riley said.

“I promise her all the time that I’m not that kind of man,” Steve said. “And I don’t know what else to do to convince her otherwise. All this ‘baggage.’” He did air quotes. “I’m never going to make her feel like less. I want her to feel like she can do anything and I’m behind her.”   
I literally watched Riley’s mind switch over to Strategic therapy. She glanced at me as if to tell me she was going to do this, since Steve seemed to have no insight as to how I was feeling. “So, if I’m understanding this correctly, and forgive me if I’m coming off as a little slow, you love and adore her so much, you couldn’t imagine making her unhappy or putting her in pain. You’d get a second job if it meant she stayed happy and comfortable.”

“Absolutely, but that’s not the case,” Steve said. “I’ve got all the money we need.”

“And she’s completely safe and will want for nothing?”

“Exactly! What else does anybody want?”

“Dani, what is your biggest worry?”

“That I’m going to be miserable and when I’m sad, I’ll be a bad wife and I’ll make him unhappy,” I admitted.

“Okay,” he said, nodding. “Okay. Work makes you happy?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“You don’t think I’ll be able to make you happy alone?” he asked me.

I realized how much of a blow it was to Steve’s ego what I was saying. “No…” I said softly.

“Will you give me a chance to prove to you how much I love you by letting me provide for you?” he asked gently.

It made sense suddenly: Steve was just doing everything he knew how to do by being a provider. I closed my eyes and rubbed the bridge of my nose. “Alright. But I’m still taking out student loans to pay for school.”

“I told you I can provide for you.”

“It’s not what you think it is.”

“How much are we talking? Like, a thousand dollars a semester, we can make that happen. Easy!”

“I’m taking out student loans for tuition.” I rubbed the bridge of my nose again, closing my eyes. “Steve,” I sighed.

“What? Why are both of you looking at me like that?”

“It costs thirty thousand a year to go to GWU.”

Steve literally did a spit-take of his coffee, and it came out of my nose. “Wait, what?”

“Do you need a napkin, I have a few in my desk?” Riley asked.

“No, wait-” Steve spluttered.

“I get about fifteen thousand a year in scholarships and grants,” I said. “But the rest, I have to make up for by myself.”

“Oh God! What?” he cried, jumping up to pace.

“How did that happen? Why did you go to such an expensive school?”

“It’s only another year,” I offered.

“It might be a good idea to go to a financial planner and talk about your budget and expectations, I can’t help with that,” Riley said.

“How much do you have in student loans?” Steve asked, stunned.

“About twenty thousand,” I said. “Hey, it could be worse. Mia’s got about thirty-thousand in loans from this year alone.”

“What the hell has America come to?” he cried. “When people are in debt for the rest of their lives as punishment for getting educated?”

“It’s a game I had to play,” I said, shrugging. “To get ahead and out of poverty. I told you, I didn’t make enough at the call centers in town to get my own apartment.”

“I see why you didn’t want to tell me, now,” he muttered. “I’m just stunned that you’re this far in debt to get an education in something you love and are actually pretty good at. I am never going back to school!”

“You’re not the only one saying that,” I muttered. “This is what America’s come to.”

“I’m digging into the Monaco money to take care of your tuition,” he said

“No, we’re not touching that!”

“Yes, we are. School is important to you and you’re not taking out any more student loans. This is highway robbery!”

I groaned.

I wished at that moment, Riley could have given him advice.


End file.
